ersity  of  California. 


*s 


COMMUNION  THOUGHTS. 


BY 


S.  G.  BULFINCH, 

AUTHOR  OP  "LAYS  OF  THE  GOSPEL. 


"  O  thou  true  Eastern  Star ! 
Saviour !  atoning  Lord !  where'er  we  roam, 
Draw  still  our  hearts  to  thee,  else,  else  how  vain 
•Ffcekjiope,  the  fair  lost  birthright  to  regain !  " 

MRS.  HEMANS. 

THJKD  EDITION 

OIEf 

*\V^ 

BOSTON: 
WALKER,  WISE,   &    CO., 

245  WASHINGTON  STREET. 
1860. 


m 


UN 


Entered  according  to  Act  of  Congress,  in  the  year  1850,  by 

WM.  CROSBY  AND  H.  P.  NICHOLS, 

in  the  Clerk's  Office  of  the  District  Court  of  the  District  of  Massa 
chusetts. 


-H 


OP -THE 

.'IVEESITYH 


ADVERTISEMENT. 


THERE  are  many  in  our  congregations, 
who  are  withheld  from  participating  in  the 
communion,  by  causes  which  a  fair  con 
sideration  of  the  subject  would  be  likely  to 
remove.  There  are  others,  probably,  who 
unite  in  the  ordinance  from  a  sense  of  duty, 
but  to  whom  it  is  not  as  interesting  and 
improving  as  it  ought  to  be,  through  the 
difficulty  of  directing  the  current  of  the 
thoughts,  and  developing  the  religious  feel 
ings.  This  little  volume  is  an  attempt  to 
meet,  in  some  humble  degree,  the  spiritual 
wants  of  these  two  classes.  It  is  composed 
of  materials,  in  part  written  for  the  purpose, 
and  in  part  prepared  for  the  pulpit  in  the 
course  of  the  author's  ministry.  A  few 
pieces  in  verse  are  inserted,  none  of  which 
have  before  been  published. 


CONTENTS. 


PART  I. 

THE  LORD'S  SUPPER. 

PAGE 

Value  of  Outward  Forms   .        .        .                .  .3 

The  Pledge  of  Christian  Duty        ....  7 

Who  is  on  the  Lord's  Side  ?        .        .        ...  .10 

Institution  and  Meaning  of  the  Communion   .         .  15 

Historical  Importance  of  the  Communion  .         .  .22 

For  whom  is  the  Communion  intended  ?  29 

Reasons  for  attending  the  Communion       .        .  .35 

Lord !  I  am  not  worthy 47 

What  is  that  to  thee  ?    Follow  thou  me      .  .53 

Is  it  my  Duty  to  partake  of  the  Communion  ?        .  59 

PART    II. 

OUR   SAVIOUR. 

Christ  the  Image  of  God 69 

Christ  our  Brother 76 

Christ  our  Example 87 


23 

Vi  CONTENTS. 

Christ's  Anticipations     .        ,       .        .        .        .    '      98 
Christ  in  Gethsemane        .        .        .  .        .108 

The  Arrest,  Trial,  and  Crucifixion        .        .        .        113 

PART  III. 

THE   COMMUNICANT. 

Self-Examination 123 

Prayer  after  Self-Examination  .  .  .  .  128 
Prayer  before  Communion  .  .  .  .130 
Prayer  before  Communion,  in  Prosperity  .  .  132 
Prayer  before  Communion,  in  Adversity  .  .  .  134 
Prayer  before  Communion,  when  privately  admin 
istered  in  Sickness  .  ....  136 
Passages  of  Scripture  ......  138 

PART  IV. 
THE  CHRISTIAN'S  WALK. 

Bearing  the  Cross          .        .        .  .        .        145 

Instrumental  and  Active  Duties        ,.       .        .        .     157 

PART  V. 

MEDITATIONS   IN  VERSE. 

"  Beuold  the  Man !  " 179 

Jesus  before  Pilate    .        .        .        ....        .182 

The  Crown  of  Thorns 184 

"  My  God !  my  God !  Why  hast  thou  forsaken  me  ?  "    1 86 

The  Mourners .        188 

Mary  and  John,  before  the  Resurrection  .        .        .190 


CONTENTS.  Vii 

Zeal  and  Love       ....                .  193 

The  Penitent  Thief  .                         ....  195 

Praying  in  the  Name  of  Christ 197 

Invitation 199 

The  Communion  of  Saints 201 

Praise  ...  .203 


PART    I. 
THE  LORD'S  SUPPER 


THE  LORD'S  SUPPER 


VALUE  OF  OUTWARD  FORMS. 

THERE  exists,  in  the  present  age,  an  increasing 
indifference  to  outward  forms  in  religion.  Men 
have  so  long  groaned  under  the  bondage  of  ob 
servances,  that  a  reaction  has  taken  place.  Be 
coming  aware  of  the  fact,  that  mere  forms  are  not 
truth  and  right,  men  have  begun  to  show  a  dispo 
sition  to  reject  them  altogether ;  and  numbers, 
viewing  the  Christian  ordinances  as  mere  forms, 
have  so  far  undervalued  them,  as  entirely  to  neg 
lect  participation  in  their  important  advantages. 

A  well-judging  mind,  however,  will  look  with 
some  degree  of  suspicion  upon  any  thing  so  tran 
sient  and  uncertain  as  the  spirit  of  the  age.  We 
must  not  suffer  ourselves  to  be  hurried  along  by 
the  influence  of  the  opinions  which  happen  for  the 


time  to  be  prevalent.  We  have  the  Scriptures  be 
fore  us,  we  have  reason  within  us.  Relying  on 
these,  and  on  the  Divine  blessing,  let  us  decide 
whether  we  shall  do  well  to  discard  or  to  neglect 
institutions  which  are  hallowed,  not  only  by  the  ob 
servance  of  eighteen  centuries,  but  by  the  original 
appointment  of  our  Saviour,  and  by  the  exercise 
of  a  most  blessed  and  useful  influence  over  those 
who  engage  in  them  aright. 

Man  is  an  intellectual,  a  spiritual  being.  But 
this  spiritual  being  is  also  corporeal ;  this  intellect 
ual  being  can  receive  impressions  from  an  earthly 
source,  only  through  the  medium  of  the  outward 
senses.  Whatever  is  to  be  addressed  to  man,  with 
the  design  to  affect  his  conduct  and  character, 
must  be  adapted  to  both  portions  of  his  compound 
nature.  It  must  be  suited  to  influence  his  thoughts 
and  feelings,  but  it  cannot  reach  these  except 
through  the  avenues  of  sight  and  hearing ;  to 
these  faculties,  also,  it  must  be  adapted.  Relig 
ion,  though  in  itself  a  spiritual  thing,  cannot  dis 
pense  with  external  means  for  its  communication 
and  development.  Among  these  external  means 
various  services  and  ceremonies  have  from  time  to 
time  been  employed.  One  of  them  was  sacrifice, 
so  generally  practised  throughout  the  world  in  an 
cient  times.  Another  was  fasting,  an  outward  ex- 


VALUE    OF    OUTWARD    FORMS. 


pression  of  sorrow,  designed  to  promote  the  feel 
ing  of  self-condemnation  from  which  that  sorrow 
resulted.  We  may  find  another  in  that  solemn 
music,  which  is  employed  among  ourselves,  as  it 
has  been  for  ages,  to  assist  the  devotional  tenden 
cy  of  the  mind.  Nor  are  these  the  only  external 
services.  Preaching  is  external ;  however  it  may 
be  addressed  to  the  intellect  or  the  heart,  it  can 
reach  these  only  through  an  outward  sense.  Pray 
er  is  external,  —  all  prayer  that  is  uttered  in  words. 
Nay,  even  that  which,  without  utterance,  assumes 
the  form  of  words  within  the  mind,  partakes  of  the 
outward  and  of  the  ceremonial.  The  Society  of 
Friends,  carefully  as  they  have  endeavoured  to 
avoid  formalism,  have  not  been  able  to  dispense 
with  forms.  The  assembling  together  is  an  out 
ward  form  ;  the  signal  for  separation  is  given 
by  a  simple  but  expressive  form  ;  and  the  solemn 
stillness  of  the  assembly  while  engaged  in  worship 
is  valued  for  precisely  the  same  reason  for  which 
the  Catholic  values  the  rich  music  that  accompa 
nies  and  aids  his  aspirations. 

Must  we,  then,  on  the  ground  that  religion  ought 
to  be  spiritual,  give  up  at  once  all  that  is  external, 
and,  classing  together  the  ancient  sacrifice,  the 
modern  liturgy,  and  public  and  private  prayers,  of 
whatever  kind,  resolve  to  be  religious  only  in  the 


THE  LORD'S  SUPPER. 


secret  feelings  of  the  heart  ?  Thus  doing,  we 
should  act  inconsistently  with  our  nature,  for  we 
should  forget  its  compound  character.  We  are 
not  exclusively  spiritual  beings.  In  us,  dwelling 
in  these  material  tabernacles,  the  secret  feelings 
of  the  heart  need  prompting  and  encouragement 
by  something  external  to  themselves.  We  have, 
then,  only  one  course  left,  worthy  of  our  adoption. 
That  course  is,  to  make  use  of  outward  means, 
not  as  though  religion  consisted  in  them,  but  that 
we  may  become  more  successful  in  the  attainment 
of  our  ultimate  object,  the  true  religious  char 
acter. 


THE  PLEDGE   OF  CHRISTIAN  DUTY. 


WE  have  witnessed,  of  late  years,  a  surprising 
movement  in  the  community  on  a  subject  of  moral 
reform.  The  progress  of  intemperance,  which 
had  produced  the  most  fearful  ravages  in  our  own 
and  in  other  lands,  has  been  arrested.  Thousands 
have  been  rescued,  who,  but  for  this  movement, 
would  have  gone  down  to  a  dishonored  grave. 
The  means  for  the  accomplishment  of  this  great 
good  was  simple.  It  was  a  pledge,  a  bond  of 
union.  It  was  the  practical  adoption  of  the  idea, 
that  those  who  had  firmness  enough  for  the  pur 
pose  should  come  out  and  profess  themselves 
friends  of  temperance,  —  friends  of  temperance 
in  opinion,  and  resolved  to  be  friends  of  temper 
ance  in  practice.  What  that  pledge  was  to  this 
branch  of  moral  reform,  is  the  communion  of  the 
Lord's  Supper  to  Christianity.  It  is  the  pledge  of 
belief  and  of  obedience.  It  is  the  outward  sign  by 


8  THE  LORD'S  SUPPER. 

which  the  individual  declares  that  he  has  taken 
his  side  in  the  struggle  between  good  and  evil  in 
the  world ;  that  he  has  chosen  his  place,  humbly, 
indeed,  but  with  calm  faith  and  hope,  at  the  feet 
of  his  Redeemer,  and  in  the  company  of  that 
.  Redeemer's  followers. 

If,  then,  we  have  seen  —  and  who  has  not  ?  — 
the  effect  produced  for  the  amelioration  of  char 
acter  by  the  adoption  of  the  pledge  of  temper 
ance,  may  we  not  expect  results  corresponding 
in  importance  from  the  voluntary  assumption  of 
that  which  is  the  pledge  of  abstinence  from  all 
evil  ?  He  who  meets  his  fellow-Christians  at  the 
table  of  the  Lord  has,  indeed,  contracted  no  new 
obligations  ;  but  he  has  avowed  those  which  al 
ready  existed,  and  has  thus  strengthened  their  in 
fluence  over  him.  That  which  was  innocent  for 
him  previously,  is  innocent  still ;  but  lie  now 
feels  that  more  is  dependent  on  the  correctness 
of  his  conduct  than  before.  He  is  surrounded 
with  a  cloud  of  witnesses.  The  community  at 
large,  his  brethren  in  the  fellowship  of  Christ,  his 
own  aspirations  of  piety  and  resolutions  of  virtue, 
all  warn  him  against  remissness,  and  exhort  him  to 
perseverance.  Let  it  not  be  said  that  the  respon- 
sibleness  is  too  heavy  to  be  assumed.  We  scruple 
not,  when  called  by  circumstances  to  any  station 


THE    PLEDGE    OF    CHRISTIAN    DUTY. 

which  we  are  competent  to  fill,  to  pledge  ourselves 
to  the  due  performance  of  its  duties.  We  intend 
to  be  faithful,  and  it  occurs  not  to  us  that  any  dan 
ger  is  incurred  by  professing  that  intention.  Why, 
then,  if  we  intend  to  be  faithful  to  God,  and  Christ, 
and  our  own  souls,  should  we  scruple  to  avow  that 
intention  by  what  our  religion  has  made  its  appro 
priate  pledge  ?  Why  should  we  anticipate  a  de 
sertion  of  duty  which  is  far  from  our  purpose,  and 
against  which  the  very  profession  we  are  called  to 
make  will  aid  in  securing  us  ? 


-s 


WHO  IS  ON  THE  LOKD'S  SIDE  ? 


WE  learn,  from  the  account  in  the  book  of  Ex 
odus,  that  while  the  lawgiver  of  the  Israelites  was 
on  the  height  of  Sinai,  holding  sublime  intercourse 
with  the  Almighty,  the  people,  weary  with  the  long 
tarrying  of  their  leader,  were  urged  by  their  im 
patience  into  crime.  In  imitation  of  the  idolatry  of 
their  Egyptian  masters,  they  made  a  calf  of  gold, 
and  consecrated  it  as  an  emblem  of  Jehovah. 
They  evidently  had  no  thought  of  relinquishing 
the  service  of  the  Being  who  had  brought  them 
out  of  the  land  of  Egypt,  yet  their  worship  of  him, 
by  means  of  this  unworthy  image,  was  in  direct 
violation  of  the  command  he  had  given  them,  and 
was  justly  regarded  as  an  act  of  treason  and  idol 
atry.  They  proclaimed  a  feast  unto  the  Lord, 
and,  assembling  around  the  idol  which  their  hands 
had  made,  they  "  sat  down  to  eat  and  to  drink,  and 
rose  up  to  play."  In  the  midst  of  their  presump- 


WHO    IS    ON    THE    LORD'S    SIDE?  11 

tuous  worship  and  indecorous  mirth,  Moses  ap 
peared,  accompanied  only  by  his  attendant,  Josh 
ua,  but  in  the  strength  of  indomitable  courage,  of 
a  holy  purpose,  and  of  conscious  intercourse  with 
God.  Dashing  from  his  hands,  in  the  excitement 
of  the  moment,  the  sacred  tables  of  the  law  which 
he  bore,  he  commanded  the  instant  destruction  of 
the  idol.  But  this  was  not  enough.  Far  and  wide 
around,  he  saw  the  people  scattered  in  shameful 
revelry,  exposed  without  defence  to  the  sudden 
incursion  of  any  enemy,  and  yet  evidently  dis 
posed  to  resist  his  authority.  "  Who  is  on  the 
Lord's  side  ?  "  he  exclaimed  ;  "  let  him  come  unto 
me."  Among  the  twelve  tribes,  only  his  own, 
that  of  Levi,  gathered  at  the  summons.  He  sent 
them  forth,  with  a  severity  which  the  extent  of  the 
defection  rendered  necessary,  to  punish  those  who 
persevered  in  their  idolatry  ;  but  only  by  the  death 
of  three  thousand  of  the  rebels  were  the  people 
reduced  to  penitence  and  submission. 

"  Who  is  on  the  Lord's  side  ?  "  That  dread 
summons,  which  then  rang  through  the  disordered 
camp  of  Israel,  is  yet  sounded  forth.  Who  is  on 
the  Lord's  side  in  the  great  strife  between  good 
and  evil,  between  religion  and  irreligion,  between 
virtue  and  vice  ?  There  is  a  cause  of  God  in  the 
world  now,  as  there  was  in  the  days  of  Moses. 


12  THE  LORD'S  SUPPER. 

As  then  the  Almighty  was,  by  the  ministry  of  his 
prophet,  leading  his  chosen  people  to  the  land  of 
promise,  and  preparing  them,  by  instruction  and 
discipline,  to  receive  and  transmit  to  future  ages 
his  holy  truth,  so  now  is  he,  by  the  Gospel  of  his 
Son,  Jesus  Christ,  leading  the  human  race  from  the 
worse  than  Egyptian  bondage  of  ignorance  and 
vice,  to  the  promised  land  of  virtue,  wisdom,  and 
happiness,  making  ready  for  himself  a  peculiar 
people,  zealous  of  good  works.  Wherever  there 
is  a  question  for  moral  judgment,  wherever  there 
is  a  right  and  wrong,  wherever  any  thing  can  be 
done  for  the  good  of  a  fellow-being,  or  any  thing 
avoided  by  which  a  fellow-being  may  be  injured, 
wherever  faith  encourages,  or  conscience  warns, 
or  temptation  assails  us,  there  is  the  cause  of  God 
at  issue,  there  is  the  demand  addressed  to  us, 
"  Who  is  on  the  Lord's  side  ? "  We  are  engaged 
in  a  warfare.  Happier,  indeed,  than  those  of  the 
tribe  of  Levi,  who  gathered  at  the  call  of  Moses, 
the  weapons  of  our  warfare  are  not  carnal ;  we 
wrestle  not  with  flesh  and  blood  ;  nor  are  we 
called  to  maintain  the  cause  of  God,  as  those  in 
a  ruder  age,  and  under  a  less  perfect  dispensa 
tion,  by  deeds  of  sanguinary  justice.  No  ;  our 
great  ministry  is  love.  Our  leader  is  he  who 
went  about  doing  good,  and  our  task,  to  follow 


WHO    IS    ON    THE    LORD'S    SIDE  ?  13 

his  example.  With  us,  as  Christians,  the  service 
of  God  and  the  service  of  our  race  are  one  and 
the  same  ;  and  he  who  is  on  the  side  of  human 
rights  and  human  happiness  is  on  the  Lord's 
side. 

Are  you  on  the  Lord's  side  ?  Have  you  pledged 
yourself  to  his  service  ?  Are  you  doing  all  you 
can  in  his  cause  ?  When  the  Israelites  heard 
from  the  lips  of  Moses  that  stern  demand,  they 
knew  that  the  duty  required  of  them  was  not  si 
lence,  not  neutrality,  but  a  prompt  acknowledg 
ment  of  their  allegiance  to  the  Almighty,  and  a 
faithful  performance  of  that  which  he,  through 
his  prophet,  might  command  them.  The  sum 
mons  was  in  the  name,  and  by  the  authority,  of 
their  God.  It  was  made  by  his  chosen  prophet, 
and  in  his  holy  cause.  It  was  for  them  to  choose 
between  obedience  and  rebellion.  How  stands 
the  case  with  us  ?  Not  Moses,  but  Christ,  calls 
us  to  the  service  of  the  Lord  ;  and  that  service  is 
not  one  of  vengeance,  but  of  love.  Yet  is  the 
call  less  imperative  ?  Is  it  less  our  duty  to  be 
faithful  Christians  than  it  was  that  of  the  people 
in  the  days  of  Moses  to  be  faithful  Israelites  ? 
How,  then,  if  they  were  guilty  who  refused  to 
make  profession  of  their  faith  at  the  voice  of  Mo 
ses,  shall  they  be  held  guiltless  who  refuse  the 


14  THE  LORD'S  SUPPER. 

profession  of  their  faith  in  Christ  ?  It  is  by  be 
coming  members  of  the  Christian  Church  that  we 
take  our  stand,  in  the  sight  of  God  and  man,  on 
the  side  of  Christian  truth  and  Christian  virtue,  on 
the  side  of  man's  improvement  and  of  God's 
commands. 


n- 


INSTITUTION  AND    MEANING   OF    THE 
COMMUNION. 


THE  ordinance  of  the  Lord's  Supper  derives  its 
explanation  from  the  circumstances  under  which 
it  was  instituted.  Our  Saviour,  the  night  before 
he  was  crucified,  was  partaking  with  his  disciples 
of  the  Passover,  the  feast  appointed  in  commem 
oration  of  the  great  deliverance  of  the  chosen 
people  from  the  Egyptians.  He  availed  himself 
of  the  occasion,  —  and  a  more  suitable  one  could 
not  have  been  chosen,  —  to  institute  another  feast, 
commemorative  of  a  greater  deliverance.  He 
took  a  portion  of  the  bread  which  was  before  him, 
and,  breaking  it,  compared  it  to  his  body,  which 
was  the  next  day  to  be  broken  on  the  cross.  He 
then  shared  it  among  his  disciples.  He  took  a 
portion  of  the  wine  before  him,  and,  pouring  it 
forth,  told  his  followers  that  thus  his  blood  was  to 
be  poured  forth.  He  passed  the  cup  also  around 


16  THE  LORD'S  SUPPER. 

among  them,  and  directed  them  to  continue  the 
custom  in  memory  of  him. 

Such  seems  to  be  the  plain  account  of  the  Chris 
tian  communion.  The  bread  and  the  wine  are 
simply  emblems  of  the  Saviour's  body  and  blood  ; 
and  our  participation  in  them  is  intended  to  re 
mind  us  of  what  our  Lord  endured  for  our  sake. 
Many  Christians  believe  that  there  is  a  mysterious 
meaning,  beyond  this,  implied  in  the  words  of 
Jesus,  "  This  is  my  body,"  and  "  This  is  my 
blood."  But  nothing  was  more  common  with 
our  Saviour  than  to  employ  figurative  language. 
When  he  said,  "  I  am  the  vine,"  "  I  am  the  door 
of  the  sheep,"  we  readily  understand  that  he 
only  meant  to  compare  himself  to  those  objects  ; 
and  it  appears  to  us  equally  clear,  that,  when 
he  said  of  the  wine  before  him,  "  This  is  my 
blood,"  nothing  more  than  a  simple  comparison 
was  intended. 

We  are  told  respecting  the  three  thousand  who 
were  converted  on  the  day  of  Pentecost,  soon  af 
ter  our  Saviour's  ascension,  that  "  they  continued 
steadfastly  in  the  Apostles'  doctrine  and  fellowship, 
and  in  breaking  of  bread,  and  in  prayers."  We 
are  further  told,  that  they  continued  "  daily  with 
one  accord  in  the  temple,  and  breaking  bread 
from  house  to  house."  Acts  ii.  42,  46.  It 


INSTITUTION    AND    MEANING.  17 

seems  from  this,  that,  in  the  very  earliest  days  of 
the  Christian  Church,  whenever  a  number  of  the 
believers  met  together,  they  were  accustomed  to 
partake  of  bread  and  wine  in  memory  of  their 
Master.  But  if  such  was  the  custom,  it  was  soon 
subjected  to  limitations.  The  first  day  of  the 
week,  the  day  hallowed  by  the  resurrection  and 
ascension  of  the  Saviour,  became  the  regular  sea 
son  for  the  religious  meetings  of  his  disciples  ; 
and  it  appears  that  on  that  day  they  were  accus 
tomed  to  assemble  for  the  especial  purpose  of 
commemorating  their  Master  in  this  ordinance. 
This  we  may  collect  from  the  passage  in  Acts 
xx.  7,  —  "  And  upon  the  first  day  of  the  week, 
when  the  disciples  came  together  to  break  bread, 
Paul  preached  unto  them." 

We  may  reasonably  suppose  that,  in  the  early 
churches  generally,  the  religious  design  of  this 
ordinance  was  kept  in  view,  and  the  observance 
of  it  conducted  in  a  reverential  manner.  In  the 
luxurious  city  of  Corinth,  however,  some  abuses 
crept  in,  which  drew  from  the  Apostle  Paul  a  se 
vere  rebuke. 

Corinth  was  noted  for  wealth  and  dissoluteness  ; 
and  it  is  evident  from  the  tenor  of  St.  Paul's  first 
epistle  to  the  church  in  that  place,  that  the  infec 
tion  of  the  manners  prevalent  around  them  had 


18  THE  LORD'S  SUPPER. 

found  its  way  among  the  Christian  community. 
The  Corinthian  disciples,  when  they  came  togeth 
er  on  the  Lord's  day,  were  accustomed,  like  other 
Christians,  to  bring  with  them  bread  and  wine  for 
the  rite  commemorative  of  the  Saviour.  After 
the  Apostle  had  left  their  city,  the  love  of  show 
and  of  indulgence  prompted  them,  it  appears,  to 
contribute  in  this  manner  far  more  than  was  de 
sirable  for  the  emblematic  purpose  of  the  rite  in 
which  they  were  to  engage.  The  simple  feast  of 
love  was  changed  into  a  banquet.  Probably  the 
corruption  was  gradual ;  and  for  some  time  the  fes 
tival,  though  too  luxurious  for  propriety,  was  shared 
equally  by  all,  and  with  reference  in  the  minds  of 
all  to  the  circumstances  under  which  it  was  insti 
tuted.  But  at  length  those  circumstances  seem  to 
have  been  forgotten  ;  the  wealthy,  who  contrib 
uted  largely  to  the  banquet,  rendered  it  in  some 
instances  an  occasion  of  indecorous  excess,  while 
the  poor  were  excluded  from  the  table  which  they 
had  not  the  means  to  assist  in  furnishing.  This 
account  of  the  celebration  of  the  communion  in  a 
Christian  church  in  the  days  of  the  Apostles  may 
wrell  surprise  us  ;  but  it  is  too  well  attested  to  be 
called  in  question.  The  abuse,  with  others  which 
existed  in  the  same  community,  attracted  the  no 
tice  of  St.  Paul.  He  wrote  to  them  in  the  follow- 


INSTITUTION    AND    MEANING.  19 

ing  words  :  —  "  Now  in  this  that  I  declare  unto 
you,  I  praise  you  not,  that  ye  come  together,  not 
for  the  better,  but  for  the  worse  "  ;  —  that  your 
religious  meetings  are  not  suited  for  your  improve 
ment,  but  for  your  corruption.  "  When  ye  come 
together  therefore  into  one  place,  this  is  not  to 
eat  the  Lord's  Supper  "  ;  —  this  is  not  the  proper 
way  of  observing  such  an  ordinance.  "  For  in 
eating,  every  one  taketh  before  other  his  own  sup 
per  :  and  one  is  hungry,  and  another  is  drunken. 
What !  have  ye  not  houses  to  eat  and  to  drink  in  ? 
or  despise  ye  the  church  of  God,  and  shame  them 
that  have  not  ?  What  shall  I  say  to  you  ?  Shall 
I  praise  you  in  this  ?  I  praise  you  not."  He 
then  reminds  them  of  the  meaning  of  the  ordi 
nance,  of  which  it  seems  they  had  so  generally 
lost  sight.  He  adds  :  —  "  For  as  often  as  ye  eat 
this  bread,  and  drink  this  cup,  ye  do  show  the 
Lord's  death  till  he  come.  Wherefore,  whoso 
ever  shall  eat  this  bread,  and  drink  this  cup  of  the 
Lord,  unworthily,  shall  be  guilty  of  the  body  and 
blood  of  the  Lord.  But  let  a  man  examine  him 
self,  and  so  let  him  eat  of  that  bread,  and  drink  of 
that  cup.  For  he  that  eateth  and  drinketh  unwor 
thily,  eateth  and  drinketh  damnation  to  himself, 
not  discerning  the  Lord's  body."  "  Wherefore, 
my  brethren,  when  ye  come  together  to  eat,  tarry 


20 


one  for  another.  And  if  any  man  hunger,  let  him 
eat  at  home  ;  that  ye  come  not  together  unto  con 
demnation."  1  Cor.  xi.  17  -  34. 

The  language  of  the  Apostle  explains  itself. 
The  strong  terms  in  which  he  speaks  of  eating 
and  drinking  unworthily,  have  probably  deterred 
many  from  joining  in  the  communion,  who  should 
have  felt  that  it  was  both  their  duty  and  their  right. 
But  on  examination,  we  perceive  that  St.  Paul  re 
ferred  with  disapprobation,  not  to  the  conduct  of 
any  who  reverently,  and  with  a  desire  to  honor 
their  Master,  comply  with  his  command,  but  to 
an  abuse  which  has  not  perhaps  existed  in  the 
Church  from  the  days  of  the  Corinthians  to  the 
present  time  ;  a  total  perversion  of  the  ordinance, 
in  forgetfulness  of  its  meaning,  to  the  purpose  of 
mere  sensual  indulgence.  This  the  Apostle  rightly 
called  "  not  discerning  the  Lord's  body,"  —  not 
distinguishing  between  the  emblems  of  the  Lord's 
body  and  the  food  used  in  common  banquets  ;  and 
this  was  surely  partaking  unworthily.  That  this 
crime  might  be  avoided,  he  bade  the  Corinthians 
to  examine  themselves,  that  they  might  know  with 
what  views  and  feelings  they  approached  the  ta 
ble  of  the  Lord. 

This  passage,  therefore,  does  not  exclude  from 
Christian  communion  any  one  who  reverences  the 


INSTITUTION    AND    MEANING.  21 

Saviour,  and  understands  that  the  Supper  is  admin 
istered  in  commemoration  of  him.  The  Apostle, 
however,  in  the  same  letter,  gives  directions  to  the 
Corinthian  church  to  suspend  from  their  fellow 
ship  a  man  who  had  committed  a  flagrant  offence. 
1  Cor.  v.  The  order  was  obeyed,  and  the  indi 
vidual  repented.  The  second  epistle  requests  the 
church  to  forgive,  and  again  receive  the  penitent 
among  them.  2  Cor.  ii.  5  -  10. 


mSTORICAL   IMPORTANCE    OF    THE 
COMMUNION. 


THE  Lord's  Supper  is  an  historical  memorial  of 
important  transactions,  —  a  perpetual  witness  to 
the  truth  of  the  Christian  religion.  That  we  may 
judge  of  its  value  in  this  respect,  we  must  take  a 
brief  view  of  the  nature  of  such  memorials. 

Monuments  and  commemorations  of  past  events 
have  been  in  use  among  almost  every  people. 
These  have  mostly  taken  the  form  either  of  some 
remarkable  structure,  as  a  heap  of  stones,  an  al 
tar,  or  a  column  ;  or  of  some  national  observance, 
as  a  feast,  or  a  pilgrimage. 

The  monumental  structure  bears  witness  through 
succeeding  ages  to  the  occasion  on  which  it  was 
oiveted,  even  if  no  inscription  be  engraved  upon 
it ;  because  they  who  witnessed  its  erection  hand 
down  the  memory  of  that  event,  and  the  transac 
tions  connected  with  it,  to  their  children,  and  they 


g 

HISTORICAL    IMPORTANCE.  'J.'> 

to  theirs,  and  these  to  still  following  generations. 
True,  the  traditional  account  may  by  time  be 
blended  with  error;  but  this  is  most  likely  to  be 
the  case  in  monuments  of  merely  local  interest. 
If  we  find  substantially  the  same  account  given 
of  any  monument,  the  work  of  human  hands,  by 
the  widely  scattered  descendants  of  those  who  wit 
nessed  its  erection,  we  have  strong  reason  to  be- 
lie\e  that,  this  account  is  true. 

A  heap  of  stones,  an  altar,  or  a  pillar,  may 
crumble  to  decay.  But  the  record  engraven  on 
the  customs  of  a  people  cannot  be  destroy -d,  ex 
cept  by  the  destruction  of  the  nation  itself.  As 
an  instance  of  such  a  record,  we  may  select  our 
own  observance  of  our  national  anniversary.  Let 
it  be  supposed  that  our  nation  should  relapse  into 
the  deepest  barbarism,  —  arts,  letters,  sciences, 
being  extinguished,  but  our  observance  of  the  na 
tional  anniversary  still  continuing.  In  that  case, 
a  thousand  years  hence,  that  anniversary  would 
still  furnish  the  information  of  our  revolutionary 
struggle.  The  people  would  always  necessarily 
connect  with  it  the  tradition  of  the  Declaration  of 
Independence,  and  of  the  war  during  which  it  was 
made.  If  at  any  time  an  attempt  should  be  made 
to  trace  the  observance  of  the  Fourth  of  July  to 
some  other  origin,  the  people  would  answer,  igno- 


24  THE  LORD'S  SUPPER. 

rant  as  they  might  be  in  other  respects,  —  "  The 
account  you  give  of  our  national  feast  is  new  to 
us  ;  it  cannot,  therefore,  be  true.  The  account 
we  give  is  that  which  has  been  handed  down  alike 
in  all  parts  of  our  country,  and  has,  therefore, 
evidently  been  the  same  through  all  ages  since  its 
origin.  It  therefore  must  be  true." 

We  return  now  to  the  ordinance  of  the  Lord's 
Supper.  The  whole  Christian  world  unite  in  re 
ceiving  that  ordinance  as  an  institution  of  the 
Saviour,  in  which  he  distinctly  foretold  his  own 
approaching  death.  In  thousands  of  churches, 
throughout  the  world,  among  Oriental  Christians, 
Catholics,  and  Protestants,  the  bread  and  wine  are 
distributed,  and  accompanied  with  the  words, 
"  This  is  my  body,"  "  This  is  my  blood,"  and 
"  This  do  in  remembrance  of  me."  Ask  the 
Christian  of  America,  of  Russia,  or  of  Spain,  to 
say  by  whom  this  rite  was  established  ;  and  each 
will  answer,  By  Jesus  Christ.  Nor  does  he  gain 
his  knowledge  of  this  fact  from  books.  It  is  from 
tradition.  We  all  see  the  rite  administered,  or  the 
preparations  made  for  it  in  our  churches,  and  re 
ceive  a  general  idea  of  its  purpose  and  origin  be 
fore  we  are  old  enough  to  read  intelligently  the 
accounts  in  the  Gospels.  The  ordinance  has  al 
ways  been  thus  administered.  This  is  the  account 


HISTORICAL   IMPORTANCE.  25 

which  we  all  have  received  from  our  fathers,  and 
they  from  theirs ;  and  it  must,  therefore,  be  true. 

Could  we,  if  we  had  never  before  heard  of  the 
Lord's  Supper,  or  seen  it  administered,  be  induced 
by  any  assurances  to  believe  that  we  had  known 
and  participated  in  such  an  ordinance,  and  had 
been  familiar  with  it  from  our  childhood  ?  And 
is  it  more  probable  that  our  ancestors,  two  or  ten 
generations  since,  were  thus  deceived  ?  —  that  they 
could  be  made  to  believe  that  an  altar  which  was 
raised  in  their  very  sight  was  a  time-honored  me 
morial-altar  which  they  had  known  from  infancy  ? 
At  what  time  was  this  mighty  fraud  effected  ? 
History  answers  not.  There  is  no  trace  in  her 
records  of  any  period,  since  the  time  of  Christ, 
when  an  attempt  was  made  to  introduce,  or  to  re 
vive,  the  observance  of  the  Supper.  .  That  observ 
ance,  therefore,  we  conclude,  has  been  held  con 
tinually  in  the  Christian  Church,  from  the  days  of 
its  Divine  founder. 

But  could  such  an  institution  have  been  fraud 
ulently  introduced  at  a  period  soon  after  the  death 
of  the  Saviour  ?  Could  the  Christian  community, 
ten  or  twenty  years  after  that  event,  have  been 
persuaded  that  their  Master  in  a  solemn  manner 
instituted  this  rite,  if  they  had  never  heard  of  it 
before  ?  Or,  to  go  back  the  single  step  that  re- 


26  THE  LORD'S  SUPPER. 

mains,  could  one  of  the  Apostles  have  persuaded 
the  rest  that  their  Master  had,  in  the  presence  of 
them  all,  established  such  an  ordinance,  when 
they  had  no  remembrance  of  such  a  scene  ?  If 
not,  the  conclusion  irresistibly  follows,  that  the 
communion  was  instituted  by  Jesus  of  Nazareth 
the  night  before  his  death. 

Let  us  now  approach  and  read  the  inscription 
on  this  venerable  altar  ;  —  in  other  words,  let  us 
notice  the  language  in  which  the  Saviour  estab 
lished  this  ordinance.  "  Take,  eat ;  this  is  my 
body,  which  is  broken  for  you :  this  do  in  remem 
brance  of  me."  "  This  cup  is  the  new  testament 
[or  covenant]  in  my  blood  :  this  do  ye,  as  oft  as 
ye  drink  it,  in  remembrance  of  me."  1  Cor.  xi. 
24,  25.  These  words,  in  substance,  are  insepara 
ble  from  the  ordinance.  It  would  be  nothing  with 
out  them.  We  know,  therefore,  that  these  words 
were  uttered  by  Jesus  before  he  was  put  to  death. 
What  does  this  prove  ? 

It  proves  that  Jesus,  while  banqueting  with  his 
disciples,  foretold  his  own  violent  death,  and  with 
so  much  certainty  of  the  fulfilment  of  his  proph 
ecy,  that  he  instituted  an  ordinance  in  memory  of 
the  event. 

It  proves  that  his  prophecy  was  fulfilled,  and 
that  he  was  violently  put  to  death.  Otherwise,  the 


HISTORICAL   IMPORTANCE.  27 

observance  of  the  rite  among  his  followers  would 
have  been  but  mockery. 

It  proves  that  his  death  was  voluntary  ;  for  it 
shows  that  he  knew  his  danger,  and  that,  instead 
of  taking  measures  to  escape  or  to  resist,  he  re 
mained  where  it  was  certain  to  come  upon  him, 
foretold  the  result,  and  even  rendered  it  necessaiy 
to  his  own  cause ;  for  he  would  have  been  proved 
a  false  prophet,  if  his  enemies  had  not  succeeded 
in  their  design  against  his  life. 

It  proves  that  he  acted  from  benevolent  motives, 
and  those  of  the  most  elevated  kind  ;  for  no  others 
could  be  found  to  induce  a  man  voluntarily  to  sub 
mit  to  a  tormenting,  and,  as  it  was  then  regarded, 
a  shameful  death. 

It  proves,  then,  that  he  spoke  what  he  believed 
to  be  the  truth.  Can  we  conceive  of  a  man, 
whose  whole  life  is  one  continued  falsehood,  be 
coming  a  voluntary  martyr  to  the  noblest  princi 
ples  of  benevolence  ? 

It  proves,  then,  that  his  religion  is  true  ;  for  that 
religion  presents  claims  respecting  the  truth  of 
which  he  could  not  have  been  mistaken. 

Thus  have  we  reached  this  great  conclusion, 
the  truth  of  the  Christian  religion,  plainly  dedu- 
cible  from  the  existence  throughout  the  world,  at 
this  day,  of  the  ordinance  of  the  Lord's  Supper. 


28  THE  LORD'S  SUPPER. 

If  all  the  records  of  our  faith  were  swept  away, 
and  there  remained,  besides  this  rite,  only  some 
traditions  respecting  the  history  of  our  Saviour's 
life  and  death,  the  argument  we  have  now  con 
templated  would  not  be  overthrown.  It  does  not 
depend  on  the  authenticity  of  writings.  It  stands 
in  its  own  strength,  an  immovable  pillar,  though 
comparatively  an  unnoticed  one,  among  the  thou 
sand  which  support  the  temple  of  Gospel  truth. 


FOR  WHOM  IS  THE  COMMUNION  INTENDED  ? 


A  QUESTION  of  great  practical  importance  pre 
sents  itself.  For  whom  is  the  communion  intend 
ed  ?  Some  limitations  are  given  by  general  con 
sent,  and  by  the  nature  of  the  ordinance  itself. 
No  one,  probably,  in  this  age,  would  be  disposed 
to  admit  to  the  Lord's  table,  children  whose  early 
age  prevents  them  from  understanding  the  mean 
ing  of  the  emblems  exhibited,  or  persons  whose 
immoral  lives  would  be  a  scandal  to  the  Church  of 
Christ.  The  exclusion  of  the  latter  class  is,  in 
deed,  sanctioned  by  the  example  of  the  Corinthian 
church,  under  the  direction  of  St.  Paul.  1  Cor. 
v.;  2  Cor.  ii.  6-10;  vii.  11.  The  ordinance 
of  baptism,  also,  being  the  proper  form  of  intro 
duction  to  the  Church,  should  be  received  before 
the  disciple  partakes  of  the  communion.  Belief 

in  Christ,  and  a  determination  to  live  according  to 
3* 

U 3 


JJ 

30  THE  LORD'S  SUPPER. 


his  law,  appear  the  only  other  requisites  which  we 
are  authorized  to  demand. 

It  may  be  asked,  however,  if  those  who  desire 
to  unite  in  this  ordinance  should  not  possess  the 
evidence  within  themselves  that  they  have  expe 
rienced  that  change  of  heart  which  our  Saviour 
describes  as  regeneration  ? 

If  by  regeneration  is  meant  the  commencement 
of  a  pious  life,  by  the  serious  direction  of  the 
thoughts  towards  religion,  —  in  other  words,  the 
recognition  of  the  truth,  that  we  are  bound  in  duty 
to  serve  our  God,  and  the  adoption  of  this  truth  as 
the  ground  of  conduct  for  the  future,  —  then,  cer 
tainly,  we  say  that  no  one,  unless  thus  regenerate, 
should  approach  the  table  of  the  Lord.  It  would 
be  mockery  for  one  to  draw  nigh  thither,  who  had 
as  yet  no  serious  purpose  to  obey  the  religion  of 
Him  whom  he  thus  in  outward  form  acknowledges 
as  his  Master.  But  if  the  inquiry  relates  rather  to 
the  inward  working  of  the  Holy  Spirit  than  to  its 
result  in  the  determination  of  the  will,  —  if  it  be 
questioned  whether  one  can  lawfully  partake  of  the 
communion,  until  he  is  conscious  of  feelings  such 
as  can  only  be  accounted  for  by  the  direct  agen 
cy  of  the  spirit  of  God,  —  then  would  we  reply, 
that  the  condition  thus  suggested  is  unreasonable. 
The  voice  of  God's  spirit  to  the  heart  comes,  we 


FOR    WHOM    INTENDED?  31 

have  reason  to  believe,  in  a  manner  not  always 
distinguishable  from  the  general  current  of  the 
thoughts  and  feelings.  While  some  are  able  to 
state  with  considerable  accuracy  the  period  of  their 
conversion,  others  —  and  among  them  many  em 
inent  for  piety  in  various  denominations  —  arc 
unable  to  remember  the  time  when  they  began  to 
love  and  honor  their  Maker.  "  Secret  things  be 
long  to  God  "  ;  and  among  such  mysteries  we  may 
well  class  the  nature  and  boundaries  of  that  inter 
course  which  he  maintains,  by  his  Holy  Spirit, 
with  our  souls.  To  us  belongs  the  plain  duty  of 
obeying  our  Saviour's  plain  commands. 

Nor  is  it  in  our  power  to  fix  on  any  particular 
degree  of  moral  attainment  which  shall  qualify  the 
disciple  for  attendance  on  the  Supper  of  his  Lord. 
The  most  virtuous  man,  the  sincerest  Christian, 
must  not  bring  to  that  hallowed  ordinance  the 
feeling  that  he  is  without  sin  ;  the  true  penitent 
may  humbly  approach,  though  the  past  offences 
which  he  has  now  for  ever  renounced  with  detes 
tation,  should  be  "  as  scarlet."  This,  indeed,  may 
justly  be  required,  that  none  should,  by  this  or 
dinance,  make  profession  of  his  faith  in  Christ, 
who,  either  by  inveterate  and  unconquered  evil 
habits,  or  by  notorious  fickleness  of  disposition,  is 
likely  to  bring  discredit  on  the  cause  of  religion. 


32  THE  LORD'S  SUPPER. 

Should  any  one,  for  instance,  in  a  former  irrelig 
ious  life,  have  been  guilty  of  habitual  profanity, 
let  him  not  feel  that  regret  for  such  a  sin,  how 
ever  sincere,  authorizes  him  at  once  to  connect 
himself  with  the  Church  of  Christ.  Let  him  rath 
er  first  prove  his  strength  to  overcome  the  old 
evil  habit ;  and  when  this  has  been  successfully 
tested  by  time,  he  may  join  his  fellow-disciples  at 
the  table  of  the  Lord,  without  incurring  the  dan 
ger  of  "  giving  occasion  to  the  enemy  to  blas 
pheme." 

For  whom,  then,  is  the  communion  intended  ? 

It  is  intended  for  the  humble  believer  ;  for  him 
who,  having  examined  as  far  as  he  had  the  power, 
rests  in  the  conviction  that  the  Gospel  of  Christ  is 
true.  Yes,  though  occasionally  doubts  may  pass 
across  his  mind,  —  though  he  may  be  at  times  in 
the  spirit  of  him  who  said,  "  Lord,  I  believe  ; 
help  thou  mine  unbelief " ;  yet  if  his  faith, 
though  trembling,  rests  on  the  sure  ground  of  de 
liberate,  impartial  examination,  —  if  he  feels  that 
he  has  good  reason  for  believing,  —  the  commun 
ion  is  intended  for  him.  It  will  give  strength  to  his 
wavering  confidence.  It  will  reassure  his  doubt 
ing  spirit.  He  will  be  brought  by  it  into  the  pres 
ence  of  Jesus,  and  hear  his  words ;  and  doubt  and 
fear  will  vanish  as  he  listens. 


8 

FOR.    WHOM    INTENDED  ?  33' 

The  communion  is  intended  for  the  young  dis 
ciple,  —  young  in  Christian  experience,  whether 
he  be  of  many  or  of  few  years,  —  who  has  en 
tered  sufficiently  upon  the  course  of  piety  to  be 
firm  in  his  own  determination  to  pursue  it,  but 
who  feels  still  that  he  has  much  to  learn,  that  he 
has  difficulties  to  encounter,  and  trials  to  over 
come.  Let  him  not  be  discouraged.  Let  him  not 
think  that  it  would  be  presumption  in  him  to  ap 
proach  the  table  of  the  Lord.  If  he  has  reason 
to  be  persuaded  that,  by  the  grace  of  God,  his 
union  with  the  visible  Church  will  not  be  dishon 
ored  by  his  desertion  of  the  path  he  has  chosen, 
let  him  not  be  dismayed  because  he  knows  that 
the  path  has  its  difficulties.  Let  him  delay  as 
long  as  prudence  requires,  but  let  him  not  perma 
nently  dispense  with  the  invaluable  aid  in  a  Chris 
tian  course  which  a  participation  in  the  commun 
ion  will  impart.  That  will  render  religion  more  a 
personal  thing  to  him  than  it  otherwise  could  be. 
It  will  give  him  a  deeper  interest  in  the  individual 
character  and  sufferings  of  Jesus  Christ.  It  will  pre 
sent  stated  seasons  for  religious  reflection  and  the 
examination  of  himself.  Let  him  not,  by  unfound 
ed  fears,  deprive  himself  of  these  advantages. 

The  communion  is  intended  for  the  parent.  It 
will  introduce  religion  into  the  bosom  of  his  fam- 


34  THE  LORD'S  SUPPER. 

ily.  It  will  set  before  his  children  the  blessed  ex 
ample  of  their  father's  reverence  for  religion  ;  an 
example  speaking  louder  than  a  thousand  pre 
cepts.  It  is  intended  for  the  afflicted.  It  will 
bring  before  the  eye  of  faith  the  picture  of  the 
Saviour's  patient  endurance,  and  of  his  love, 
stronger  than  death  itself.  It  is  intended  for  the 
happy.  It  will  lead  their  minds  up  from  the  en 
joyment  of  God's  gifts  to  the  knowledge  and  love 
of  their  bestower.  It  will  warm  their  hearts  to 
wards  their  heavenly  friend,  their  Redeemer,  and 
cause  their  feelings  of  joy  to  be  expanded  and  pu 
rified  into  a  sympathy  with  all  happiness,  and  a 
fervent  desire  to  diminish  all  misery,  throughout 
the  world  which  that  Redeemer  came  to  bless. 


REASONS  FOR  ATTENDING  THE  COMMUNION. 


OUR  Lord  Jesus  Christ  still  spreads  his  table, 
still  invites  us  to  the  simple  feast  by  which  he  is 
commemorated.  But,  as  in  the  parable  which  he 
himself  related,  of  a  certain  king  who  made  a 
great  supper,  how  many  of  those  to  whom  the  in 
vitation  comes,  begin  \vith  one  consent  to  make 
excuse  !  Some  refrain  because  the  rite  is  in  their 
apprehension  without  meaning  ;  others,  because 
they  are  welt  aware  that  it  means  too  much  for 
them  to  unite  in  it,  —  that  it  implies  a  promise  of 
consistent  service  to  God  and  to  Christ,  which  they 
are  not  yet  resolved  to  render.  One  declines  be 
cause  the  standard  of  conduct  among  professing 
Christians  is  too  low  ;  another,  because  the  stand 
ard  of  conduct  in  the  law  of  Christ  is  too  high,  — 
too  high  for  his  own  worldly  inclinations  and 
principles. 


36  THE  LORD'S  SUPPER. 

Let  us  take  a  view  of  the  considerations  which 
should  lead  the  believer  in  Christ  to  unite  in  the 
observance  of  the  Lord's  Supper. 

In  the  first  place,  if  there  were  no  perceptible 
advantage  arising  either  to  ourselves  or  others 
from  attendance  on  the  ordinance  of  Christian 
communion,  and  apart  also  from  all  considerations 
of  devotional  or  affectionate  feeling,  it  is  our  duty, 
because  it  is  commanded  by  him  who  speaks  to 
us  in  the  name  of  God.  "  This  do,"  said  our 
Saviour,  "  in  remembrance  of  me."  The  voice 
of  love  in  which  he  spoke,  the  motive  of  love 
which  he  presented,  should  not  make  those  who 
reverence  him  forget  that  he  is  authorized  to  com 
mand  them.  "  This,"  said  the  holy  voice  on  the 
Mount  of  Transfiguration,  "  is  my  beloved  Son  ; 
hear  ye  him."  Shall  we  not,  then,  obey  the  call 
of  him  who  comes  to  us  thus,  the  commissioned 
messenger  of  his  Heavenly  Father  ?  It  may  be 
that  the  purposes  of  the  ordinance  are  to  us  ob 
scure  ;  but  if  they  were  altogether  unknown,  would 
it  not  be  enough  that  we  are  commanded  to  ob 
serve  it  ?  Is  a  child  to  know  the  purpose  of  every 
direction  his  parent  gives,  before  he  determines 
whether  he  will  obey  it  ?  Let  it  be  enough  for 
us,  though  there  were  naught  else  to  engage  us, 
that  our  Saviour  hath  required  it,  —  he  who  was 


g 

REASONS    FOR   ATTENDING    IT.  37 

authorized  to  speak  in  the  name  of  his  Father  and 
our  Father,  of  his  God  and  our  God. 

Yet  is  there  a  doubt  on  our  minds,  whether 
those  words  of  his  were  truly  a  command,  or 
whether  that  command,  if  given,  is  applicable  to 
us  ?  Let  us  contemplate  the  example  of  our  Lord 
himself  under  circumstances  which  authorized  a 
similar  doubt.  John  was  baptizing  in  Judea. 
There  was  no  provision  of  God's  written  law,  re* 
quiring  that  all  should  receive  this  baptism.  The 
prophet  invited  all,  and  many  of  the  devout  re 
ceived  the  rite  at  his  hands.  Among  those  who 
offered  themselves  to  his  ministration  was  one,  so 
pure,  so  holy  in  character,  that  John  himself  felt 
that  the  penitential  rite  could  not  have  to  him  its 
full  application.  He  hesitated.  "  I  have  need  to 
be  baptized  of  thee,"  said  he,  "  and  comest  thou 
to  me  ?  "  But  Jesus  replied,  "  Suffer  it  to  be  so 
now,  for  thus  it  becometh  us  to  fulfil  all  righteous 
ness."  He  would  not  plead  exemption  from  a 
common  duty.  He  would  not  make  curious  ques 
tions  with  regard  to  the  imperative  character  of 
the  calls  of  religion.  Let  the  meek  obedience  of 
our  Saviour  be  a  lesson  to  us. 

In  the  next  place,  apart  from  the  consideration 
of  duty  in  obeying  an  express  command,  we  owe 

to  Christ  himself  this  expression  of  our  reverence 
4 


38  THE  LORD'S  SUPPER. 

and  love  to  him.  For  our  sakes,  —  among  millions 
of  others,  indeed,  yet  truly  for  our  sakes,  —  did  the 
Redeemer  give  in  his  life  the  holiest  lessons,  both 
in  word  and  conduct,  and  finally  lay  down  that 
life  upon  the  cross.  We  believe  that  he  did  so. 
He  asks  of  us  to  express  that  belief  in  a  peculiar, 
and  very  easy  and  simple  manner.  We  surely 
owe  it  to  him  to  comply  with  this  request.  If  it 
be  said  that  now,  removed  from  this  world,  our 
Saviour  can  have  no  knowledge  of  what  we  do, 
and  derive  no  pleasure  from  it,  it  may  be  an 
swered,  in  the  first  place,  that  this  assertion  takes 
for  granted  what  admits  of  discussion.  We  are 
not  authorized  to  assert  that  the  blessed  Jesus  is 
not  still  conversant  with  the  actions  and  the  feel 
ings  of  those  whom  he  came  to  save.  In  the  sec 
ond  place,  our  obligation  to  cherish  the  memory 
of  a  friend  depends  not  on  his  knowledge  whether 
we  fulfil  it.  It  would  be  ungrateful  in  a  child  to 
forget  his  parent,  —  in  a  nation  to  lose  the  mem 
ory  of  the  hero  who  had  wrought  its  deliverance, — 
though  the  parent  and  the  hero  were  resting  in  the 
grave.  Gratitude,  then,  to  our  holy  Saviour,  calls 
upon  us  to  remember  him  in  the  way  he  pointed 
out,  and  thus  to  acknowledge  his  name  in  the 
presence  of  our  fellow-men. 

This  obligation  of  gratitude  appears  stronger 


n 


REASONS    FOR    ATTENDING    IT.  39 

when  we  remember  that  this  rite  is  not  an  un 
meaning  form,  but  wisely  appointed  by  Christ  as 
a  means  of  reminding  us  of  the  most  impressive, 
most  affecting  portion  of  his  history.  In  the  last 
peaceful  hour  he  enjoyed  before  his  tortures,  he 
chose  one  simple  emblem  to  represent  his  body 
that  was  to  be  lacerated  and  broken,  another  to 
remind  us  of  his  blood  that  was  to  be  shed.  If, 
then,  we  have  a  feeling  of  gratitude  to  him,  we 
shall  desire  to  keep  alive  and  strengthen  that  feel 
ing  ;  and,  apart  from  the  fact  of  his  having  ap 
pointed  it,  there  could  be  nothing  more  suitable  in 
itself  for  that  purpose  than  a  custom  which  thus 
brings  before  us  the  remembrance  of  his  voluntary 
sufferings  for  the  sake  of  mankind. 

Not  only  is  our  attendance  on  the  communion 
due  from  us  to  our  Master  personally ;  it  is  due  to 
the  religion  of  which  he  is  the  head,  —  to  the  holy 
cause  for  which  he  gave  his  life.  That  cause  is 
the  cause  of  God  and  of  man  ;  and  the  ordinance 
in  question  is  that  by  which  we  express  towards  it 
our  allegiance.  It  is  the  cause  of  God  ;  for  Christ 
made  known  to  the  world  the  true  character  of  the 
Creator,  revealing  him  to  us  as  a  God  of  love  and 
of  holiness.  In  proportion  as  the  Christian  religion 
is  received  and  appreciated  in  the  world,  will  the 
Divine  Being  be  truly  and  worthily  known  and 


40  THE  LORD'S  SUPPER. 

honored.  That  for  which  Christ  died  is  the  cause 
of  man,  for  our  best  hopes  for  man's  improve 
ment  and  happiness  must  be  connected  with  the 
spread  of  the  Gospel.  It  is  this  which  must  put 
an  end  to  war,  by  teaching  the  lesson  of  love  ; 
to  slavery,  by  teaching  justice  ;  to  intemper 
ance,  by  teaching  self-restraint.  It  is  this,  this 
alone,  faith  in  God  as  Christ  has  revealed  him  to 
us,  which  can  conquer  every  evil  passion  of  our 
race,  subdue  selfishness,  and  render  mankind  a 
band  of  brothers,  aiding  each  other  in  their  path 
to  the  highest  good  of  which  their  present  exist 
ence  is  capable.  And,  far  more,  it  is  this  which 
alone  can  prepare  man  for  heaven,  can  remove 
from  before  the  sight  of  the  mourner  the  cloud 
that  darkens  the  grave,  and  bid  the  rays  of  heav 
enly  light  shine  through.  It  is  this,  if  any  thing, 
which  must  make  man  feel  that  he  is  an  immortal 
being,  and  act  in  a  manner  to  prepare  himself  for 
the  fulness  of  his  immortality.  It  is,  then,  the 
cause  of  God  and  man  that  claims  the  profession 
of  our  allegiance.  And  can  it  be  doubted  that  the 
rite  in  question  is  the  mode  of  expressing  that 
profession  ?  Baptism,  as  administered  among  us, 
cannot  be  so  regarded.  Attendance  at  worship  is 
practised  alike  by  those  who  are  deeply  interested 
in  religion,  and  those  who  are  not.  Those,  then, 


REASONS    FOR   ATTENDING    IT.  41 

who  desire  to  see  the  Redeemer's  cause  prosper 
ing  in  the  world,  are  bound  to  express  their  own 
allegiance  to  it,  in  the  way  generally  recognized 
among  Christians,  and  appointed  by  the  Master 
himself.  Our  duty  here  resembles  that  which  ev 
ery  citizen  owes  to  what  he  deems  correct  princi 
ples  in  public  affairs  ;  to  give  his  vote  for  them. 
By  professing  Christianity  we  give  to  it  our  vote  ; 
we  throw  our  personal  influence  into  the  scale  of 
the  Gospel. 

Not  only  do  we  owe  this  duty  to  the  wrorld,  or 
more  distinctly  to  the  community  in  which  we  re 
side  ;  we  owe  it  to  our  own  familiar  friends,  our 
own  domestic  circles.  By  a  profession  of  relig 
ion,  we  give  a  distinct  and  public  testimony  to  its 
worth,  adding  weight  to  all  other  testimony  we  may 
bear  in  its  favor.  A  young  man  may  advise  his 
companions  to  a  virtuous  and  pious  course,  and  it 
is  well ;  but  it  will  probably  have  still  more  effect 
on  them,  if,  in  addition  to  his  advice,  he  distinctly 
pledges  himself  to  the  course  he  recommends.  A 
father  may  teach  his  children  to  love  God,  and 
honor  their  Saviour's  commands,  and  it  is  well ; 
but  it  will  be  better  still,  if,  together  with  this,  he 
shows  them  by  a  public  profession  that  he  himself 
desires  to  do  as  he  instructs  them  to  do.  At  the 
Passover,  that  solemn  feast  on  which  the  commun- 


42  THE  LORD'S  SUPPER. 

ion  was  founded,  it  was  customary  among  the 
Jews,  that,  when  they  had  assembled  around  the 
board,  one  of  the  children  should  inquire,  What 
mean  ye  by  this  service  ?  At  this  prepared 
suggestion,  one  of  the  older  persons  told  the 
tale  of  that  great  deliverance  to  commemorate 
which  the  Passover  had  been  instituted ;  and 
the  young  learned  reverence  and  gratitude  from 
perceiving  these  sentiments  expressed  by  their 
parents. 

Again,  we  are  called  on  to  participate  in  this 
ordinance,  by  our  regard  for  the  purity  and  life  of 
the  Christian  Church  itself.  There  are  many  who 
complain  that  the  Church  is  not  doing,  for  the 
good  of  mankind  and  the  glory  of  God,  all  that  it 
ought  to  do.  No  doubt  the  complaint  is  well 
founded.  It  is  in  accordance  with  the  testimony 
of  Scripture,  as  to  the  weakness  of  human  pur 
poses,  and  with  the  witness  borne  by  the  con 
sciences  of  Christians  to  their  own  deficiencies. 
But  the  professed  followers  of  Christ  may  well  re 
ply  to  those  who  thus  complain,  Friends,  will  you 
not  aid  us  more  by  joining  us,  and  adding  your 
strength  to  ours,  than  by  merely  reproaching  us 
with  that  imperfection  which  we  are  ready  to  ac 
knowledge  ?  The  work  which  our  Master,  Christ, 
has  left  us,  the  work  of  making  his  religion  trium- 


-U 


REASONS    FOR   ATTENDING    IT.  43 

phant  in  the  world,  of  doing  good  unto  all  men, 
and  keeping  ourselves  pure  from  evil,  is  enough 
to  engage  all  our  best  powers,  and  deserves  the 
combined  effort  of  all  who  in  their  hearts  honor 
their  Redeemer. 

In  no  age  of  the  world,  perhaps,  has  the  great 
purpose  of  the  Church  of  Christ  been  more  clear 
ly,  more  gloriously,  presented  before  it  than  it  is 
now.  This  is  a  period  of  agitation,  an  age  of  rev 
olutions.  There  are  mighty  elements  at  work  to 
effect  changes,  mighty  powers  engaged  to  resist 
those  changes.  Amid  the  storm,  it  is  only  the 
voice  of  Christian  love  that  can  say,  Peace,  be 
still !  Let  the  Church  awake  to  her  duty.  Let 
those  of  ardent  mind,  who  now  denounce  her, 
bring  their  ardor  to  her  service,  and  suffer  her 
gentleness  to  blend  therewith.  Let  her  calm,  ma 
jestic  voice  be  heard,  bearing  testimony  against 
every  form  of  evil,  and  her  hand  uplift  before  the 
eager  combatants  the  cross,  emblem  of  meekness, 
patience,  truth,  and  love,  with  its  inscription  as  in 
the  legendary  vision  of  old  time,  —  "  In  this  over 
come." 

Attendance  on  this  commemorative  ordinance 
is  also  a  part  of  the  duty  which  the  Christian 
owes  to  himself.  Beset  with  temptations  as  we 
are,  with  the  world  offering  to  us  continual  in- 


44  THE  LORD'S  SUPPER. 

ducements  to  neglect  the  cultivation  of  our  higher 
nature,  we  need  every  holy  influence  of  which 
we  can  avail  ourselves.  If  we  perceive  not  this 
need,  that  very  unconsciousness  shows  the  urgen 
cy  of  our  necessity.  But  who,  that  is  sincerely 
and  manfully  striving  to  make  his  own  character 
what  God  approves,  does  not  feel  that  he  needs 
all  the  aid  which  religion  can  afford  him  ?  Among 
the  means  of  spiritual  improvement,  the  commun 
ion  holds  a  place  on  two  distinct  grounds,  —  as  a 
mark  of  Christian  profession,  and  from  the  emo 
tions  which  in  itself  it  is  suited  to  excite.  As  a 
mark  of  Christian  profession,  it  is  a  pledge  to  God 
and  man  of  the  intention  of  those  who  assume  it 
to  live  worthily  of  the  name  by  which  they  are 
called  ;  and  the  expression  of  a  virtuous  resolu 
tion  is  always  regarded  as  one  means  of  gaining 
strength  for  its  fulfilment.  It  has  been  recom 
mended  by  religious  writers,  that  the  Christian 
should  draw  up  a  solemn  act  of  self-dedication  to 
the  service  of  his  God,  and,  with  due  deliberation 
and  prayer,  affix  to  it  his  signature.  In  the  ob 
servance  of  the  communion,  however,  such  an  act 
is  implied.  None  can  for  the  first  time  assume 
a  place  among  those  who  profess  the  name  of 
Christ,  without  feeling  that  a  solemn  pledge  has 
been  given,  which  God  has  witnessed  no  less 


REASONS    FOR   ATTENDING    IT.  45 

than  man,  and  which  henceforth  it  must  be  the 
effort  of  life  to  maintain. 

And,  by  the  feelings  which  in  itself  it  excites, 
the  communion  has  an  influence  too  valuable  for 
the  disciple  to  dispense  with.  At  this  table  we 
meet  our  Saviour.  We  commune  with  him.  We 
have  our  great  model  placed,  more  distinctly  than 
at  other  times,  before  our  view.  Sympathy  is  ex 
cited  for  his  sufferings,  love  for  his  self-devotion, 
emulation  of  his  stainless  virtue,  and  the  desire  to 
share,  in  some  degree,  his  harmony  of  spirit  with 
the  Supreme.  In  the  solemn  stillness  with  which 
the  exercises  are  varied,  the  soul  turns  its  glance 
inward,  and  self-examination  points  out  what  duty 
has  yet  to  accomplish,  while  the  ardent  vow  to 
fulfil  the  task  appointed  is  rendered  more  holy  by 
the  prayer  that  Heaven  will  give  us  strength  for 
its  performance. 

Lastly,  to  the  thoughtful  Christian,  should  not 
this  hallowed  act  be  the  natural  result  of  the  feel 
ings  within  ?  If  we  love  and  reverence  Christ, 
why  fear  to  profess  it  ?  If  we  desire  to  do  right, 
why  not  avow,  and  thus  strengthen,  that  desire  ? 
It  is  a  part  of  the  experience  of  a  religious  charac 
ter,  essential  to  the  completeness  of  the  whole  ;  and 
if  the  character  be  truly  and  thoroughly  Christian,  it 
should  seem  that  self-denial,  if  exerted  at  all,  must 


46  THE  LORD'S  SUPPER. 

be  used  to  keep  us  from  the  hallowed  table,  not  to 
overcome  our  reluctance  to  approach  it. 

Come,  then,  with  us,  may  the  disciple  say  to 
those  who  hesitate,  and  we  will  do  you  good. 
Nay,  rather,  come  with  us,  and  our  Master,  Christ, 
and  his  holy  Gospel  and  its  ordinances,  and  the 
God  from  whom  they  came,  will  bless  us  all,  and 
enable  us  to  aid  and  to  bless  each  other. 


LORD  !   I  AM  NOT  WORTHY.  — MATT.  VIII.  8. 


No  grace  is  more  lovely  than  true  Christian 
humility  ;  no  grace,  perhaps,  more  difficult  to  at 
tain,  and  to  preserve  in  its  due  strength,  alike 
without  diminution  and  without  alloy.  The  very 
consciousness  that  we  possess  it  is  dangerous  to  its 
existence.  Yet  it  is  indispensable.  Scarce  any 
quality  is  sooner  missed  by  the  observant  eye  of 
the  world  ;  for  pride  and  vanity  are  faults  that  lie 
on  the  surface,  obvious  to  the  sight  of  all ;  and 
though  in  their  smaller  degrees  they  may  be 
classed  among  venial  sins,  yet,  when  they  have 
attained  their  full  power,  they  are  equally  despi 
cable  in  the  sight  of  men,  and  offensive  in  that  of 
God. 

True  humility  results  from  a  right  appreciation 
of  our  own  relation  to  the  Supreme  Being  and  to 
our  fellow-creatures.  We  are  to  feel,  as  we  look 
upward,  that  we  are  children  of  a  day  in  the  pres- 


48 


ence  of  the  Eternal,  —  imperfect  and  sinful  in 
the  presence  of  the  All-Pure.  We  are  to  feel, 
as  we  look  round  on  our  fellow-men,  that  we  are 
of  them,  not  above  them  ;  that  our  natures  are 
like  theirs,  our  powers  of  mind  and  body  similar, 
our  destiny  for  eternity  the  same.  Over  each  of 
our  brethren  the  Universal  Father  watches,  as 
over  us.  To  each  he  has  promised  the  same 
heaven  as  to  us,  and  on  the  same  conditions. 
We  know  that  there  is  nothing  which  we  possess, 
either  internal  or  external,  which  we  have  not  re 
ceived  from  the  Divine  Giver.  We  are  to  feel, 
therefore,  that  there  is  nothing  of  which  wre  can 
glory,  as  if  it  were  in  truth  our  own.  But  per 
haps  the  feeling  of  humility  results  not  so  much 
from  any  other  view,  as  from  that  in  which  we 
contemplate  ourselves  as  sinful,  recall  to  memory 
our  many  transgressions  of  the  Divine  law,  and 
bring  our  own  imperfection  into  immediate  con 
trast  with  the  high  standard  of  duty  as  set  forth  in 
word  and  deed  by  our  Saviour.  Then,  indeed, 
does  it  appear  to  us  that  boasting  is  excluded  ; 
then,  indeed,  as  we  listen  to  the  Saviour's  invita 
tions  of  love,  the  Father's  promises  of  mercy,  are 
we  ready  to  exclaim,  Lord  !  I  am  not  worthy. 

We  are  not  worthy  that   the  Saviour  should 
come  to  us  ;• — the  world,  when  he  came,  was  not 


H 

LORD  !     I    AM    NOT    WORTHY.  49 

worthy  that  he  should  abide  in  a  fleshly  taberna 
cle  and  mingle  among  its  blinded  and  denied  spir 
its.  Nor  are  we,  at  this  day,  worthy  of  the  grace 
that  is  granted  to  us,  in  the  Saviour's  coming  to  us 
through  his  word  and  through  his  ordinances.  If 
worthiness  be  taken  in  its  strict,  primitive  sense, 
these  mercies  of  God  have  been,  and  are  yet,  con 
ferred  on  the  undeserving  ;  but  in  that  sense  which 
mercy  recognizes,  we  are  worthy,  —  we  are  wor 
thy  of  assistance,  for  we  need  assistance.  Our 
plea  is  not  our  merit,  but  our  necessity. 

Humility  is  true  and  proper,  when,  proceeding 
from  thoughts  like  these,  it  suggests  to  us  the  in 
adequacy  of  our  efforts,  if  unassisted  by  the  grace 
of  God.  It  should  teach  us  to  depend,  not  on  our 
selves  alone,  but  on  his  aid,  freely  and  kindly 
given  to  our  sincere  efforts.  True  humility  will 
be  far  from  rendering  us  hopeless  or  discouraged. 
It  points  us  to  the  never-failing  Source  of  strength. 
It  leads  us  to  the  Rock  that  is  higher  than  we  ; 
and,  while  it  deprives  our  works  of  obedience  of 
the  pretence  to  perfection  in  themselves,  it  gives 
to  them  new  dignity  and  value,  as  those  offerings 
of  faith  and  love  on  which  the  Eternal  King  has 
deigned  to  smile. 

But  there  is  a  false  as  well  as  a  true  humility. 
This  heavenly  grace  is  not,  more  than  any  other, 


n— 

50 


exempted  from  the  danger  attending  human  vir 
tue,  in  this  world  of  trial,  —  the  danger  of  running 
into  extremes,  and  changing  its  real  character  for 
one  far  less  acceptable  to  God  and  profitable  to 
man. 

Perhaps  the  plea  of  mistaken  humility  is  never 
so  frequently  brought  forward,  as  for  the  neglect 
of  attendance  upon  the  table  of  the  Lord.  It  is, 
in  fact,  the  general  plea.  "  I  am  not  worthy  to 
become  a  member  of  the  Christian  Church,"  is 
the  language,  and,  no  doubt,  the  sincere  language, 
of  thousands.  "  I  am  conscious  of  so  many  frail 
ties,  of  being  so  far  from  the  character  which 
God  requires,  that  I  feel  that  it  would  be  presump 
tion  in  me  to  class  myself  among  the  professed 
disciples  of  the  Redeemer."  That  there  are 
those  by  whom  this  language  might  be  used  with 
propriety,  we  are  far  from  denying.  We  have  no 
wish  to  see  persons  who  are  really  unworthy,  and 
whose  conduct  would  do  dishonor  to  the  Christian 
name,  pressing  to  the  table  of  the  Lord.  But  the 
objection  is  less  frequently  urged  by  such  than  by 
a  different  class,  —  the  class  of  those  who  are  try 
ing  to  do  right,  —  who  respect  religion,  and  whose 
lives  are  influenced  by  its  teachings,  —  the  very 
class  who  most  need  the  hallowed  influence  of  the 
communion,  to  give  strength  to  their  faith  and 


LORD  !     I    AM    NOT   WORTHY.  51 

vigor  to  their  purposes,  and  for  the  consistency  of 
whose  profession  none  but  themselves  would  en 
tertain  any  apprehension. 

Christian  friend,  distrust  in  yourself  that  humil 
ity  which  would  keep  you  from  the  discharge  of 
plain  and  positive  duty.  If,  indeed,  your  charac 
ter  has  been,  and  continues  to  be,  such  as  will  ren 
der  your  assumption  of  a  Christian  profession  dis 
graceful  to  the  Church,  and  thereby  injurious  to 
others,  you  have  previous  duties  to  discharge,  — 
those  of  repentance  and  reformation.  If  you  be 
engaged  in  those  great  tasks,  continue  them,  until 
you  feel  a  reasonable  assurance  that  your  conduct 
will  give  no  occasion  to  the  adversaries  of  religion 
to  speak  reproachfully,  but  wait  not  for  an  unat 
tainable  perfection  before  you  discharge  the  duty 
to  which  your  Saviour  has  called  you.  And  in 
reference  both  to  this  subject  and  to  every  other, 
let  true  humility  ever  be  the  companion  of  your 
way.  Conscious  of  your  own  weakness,  look 
continually  to  God  for  strength  to  aid  your  efforts ; 
conscious  of  your  own  sins,  strive  ever  to  conquer 
them,  and  to  advance,  day  by  day,  nearer  to  the 
heavenly  mark,  the  prize  of  Christian  excellence. 
Humility  should  lead  you,  not  to  despond,  but  to 
be  watchful  in  effort,  and  constant  in  prayer.  If 
temptation  is  conquered,  ascribe  the  glory  to  the 


52  THE  LORD'S  SUPPER. 

Lord,  whose  aid  was  with  you.  If  temptation 
is,  in  an  evil  hour,  allowed  to  conquer,  remem 
ber,  while  you  mourn  over  your  fall,  that  the 
mercies  of  the  Lord  are  from  everlasting  to 
everlasting,  that  true  repentance  is  always  ac 
ceptable  in  his  sight,  and  that  for  the  strength 
which  you  have  lost  through  sin,  it  becomes  you 
to  walk  with  the  more  circumspection,  and  to  look 
to  him  with  more  of  beseeching  earnestness.  But 
despond  not.  Shrink  not  from  your  duties.  Abuse 
not  the  name  of  humility,  to  make  it  an  excuse  for 
neglect.  If  your  heart  breathes  forth,  "  Lord,  I 
am  not  worthy  that  thou  shouldst  come  under  my 
roof,"  strive  to  become  more  deserving,  and  mean 
time  let  your  petition  be,  "  Lord,  come  in  thine 
own  worthiness,  and  not  in  mine." 


WHAT  IS  THAT  TO  THEE?    FOLLOW  THOU 
ME.  — JOHN  XXI.  22. 


HUMAN  beings  are,  by  the  constitution  of  their 
natures,  liable  to  be  influenced  by  each  other. 
Sometimes  the  principle  of  imitation,  sometimes 
the  opposite  propensity  to  be  unlike  others,  con 
trols  our  course  of  conduct.  Within  certain 
bounds,  this  is  right.  The  propensity  to  imitation, 
especially,  is  of  high  value  in  the  early,  the  form 
ing  period  of  our  lives.  But  it  must  be  remem 
bered,  still,  that  there  is  a  relation  between  every 
human  being  and  his  Maker,  in  which  no  third 
person  bears  a  part ;  —  that  the  man  is  answer 
able  for  himself,  and  is  guilty  or  not  guilty,  ac 
cording  as  he  acts  in  conformity  to  his  own  con 
science  or  against  it.  The  wrong  that  we  do  is 
not  less  truly  evil,  because  we  may  have  followed 
a  multitude  to  do  it.  The  good  that  we  have 

omitted  to  do  was  not  less  truly  our  duty,  because 

5* 

. n 


54  THE  LORD'S  SUPPER. 

others  neglected  to  do  it,  or  discharged  it  in  an 
imperfect  or  erroneous  manner.  Independence 
in  our  actions  is  often  no  less  required  of  us  by 
religion,  than  it  is  by  true  manliness  of  character. 
Without  it,  we  forfeit  consistency  and  self-ap 
proval.  The  things  that  we  would,  we  do  not, 
and  those  that  we  would  not,  those  we  do.  The 
mind,  meantime,  is  neither  satisfied  with  itself, 
nor  certain  what  course  it  should  pursue.  It  is 
inquiring  what  others  do,  instead  of  asking  of  the 
law  of  God  what  is  its  own  duty.  And,  as  the 
conduct  of  others  is  infinitely  various,  it  is  embar 
rassed  and  divided  among  conflicting  courses, 
when  a  plain,  straightforward  path  lies  open  be 
fore  it,  in  which  it  would  go  on,  without  doubt  or 
fear,  if  but  once  fully  decided  to  follow  Christ 
and  duty. 

Let  us,  if  we  feel  disposed  to  hesitate  from  re 
gard  to  the  conduct  or  the  opinion  of  others, 
where  our  own  duty  is  clear,  remember  the  words 
of  Jesus  to  his  Apostle,  "  What  is  that  to  thee  ? 
Follow  thou  me."  Let  us  not  be  withheld  by 
fear,  or  by  any  other  cause,  connected  with  the 
imperfect  and  erring  beings  around  us,  from  do 
ing  what  we  feel  to  be  right.  An  independent 
course  is  by  no  means  inconsistent  with  due  re 
spect  to  the  judgment  of  others.  We  may  be  ig- 


FOLLOW   THOU  ME.  55 

norant,  and  others  may  be  wise,  we  may  be  sin 
ful,  and  they  may  be  eminently  virtuous,  yet,  in 
regard  to  our  own  duty,  we  must  walk  by  our 
own  light,  not  by  theirs.  We  may  seek  from 
them  advice  or  information,  we  may  sit  in  all  hu 
mility  at  their  feet,  to  learn  their  wisdom  and  be 
hold  their  virtues,  but  when  an  occasion  arises 
for  us  to  act,  if  they  or  the  whole  world  point  to 
one  course,  and  conscience  and  God's  word  to 
the  opposite,  conscience  and  God's  word  must  be 
obeyed. 

What  are  the  most  common  excuses  made  for 
the  neglect  of  the  communion  ?  Few  question 
the  fact  that  the  Saviour  of  mankind  left  to  his 
disciples  an  ordinance  which  gratitude  and  duty 
alike  require  them  to  observe.  Yet  thousands 
who  believe  in  the  truth  of  Christ's  religion,  and 
who  are  not  without  a  sense  of  gratitude  to  the 
God  and  the  Saviour  from  whom  it  came,  turn 
away  from  the  fulfilment  of  this  obligation.  What 
are  the  reasons  which  they  assign  ?  Some,  un 
doubtedly,  can  plead  motives  of  a  conscientious 
character,  which,  whether  altogether  derived  from 
correct  views  or  not,  are  yet  entitled  to  respect. 
Let  us  examine  some  of  the  reasons  assigned  by 
others. 

"  I,"  replies  one,  "  would  willingly  obey  the  last 


56  THE  LORD'S  SUPPER. 

command  of  the  Saviour,  were  it  not  that  I  should 
stand  nearly  alone  in  so  doing,  among  the  circle 
with  which  I  am  connected.  My  conduct,  were 
I  to  join  the  Church,  would  have  the  aspect  of  sin 
gularity,  perhaps  of  presumption.  Why  others, 
older  and  wiser  than  myself,  hold  back,  I  cannot 
understand  ;  but  while  they  do,  it  is  not  for  me  to 
press  forward."  To  the  person  urging  such  an 
objection  as  this,  we  may  reply,  The  service  you 
are  called  on  to  render  is  an  individual  one,  and 
for  which  you  are  individually  responsible.  Those 
whose  example  you  follow  in  abstaining  are  act 
ing  for  themselves,  and  are  responsible  to  that 
God  who  alone  sees  their  hearts.  But  to  you,  in 
dependent  of  them,  the  command  of  the  Saviour 
comes,  "  Follow  thou  me  "  ;  and  there  rests  on 
you,  independently  of  others,  the  responsibleness 
of  determining  whether  you  will  obey  it.  If  others 
do,  as  it  appears  to  you,  wrong,  you  may  grieve 
for  their  error,  though  it  were  better  still  to  sus 
pend,  if  possible,  your  judgment,  leaving  it  to 
Him  who  is  their  judge  as  well  as  yours  ;  but  as 
concerns  the  bearing  of  their  conduct  on  yours, 
the  word  of  the  Saviour  is,  "  What  is  that  to 
thee  ?  Follow  thou  me." 

"  For  me,"    replies  another,  and  the  class  is 
large,  "  I  would  join  the   Church  of  Christ,  if  I 


FOLLOW    THOU    ME.  57 

saw  those  who  are  its  members  conducting  them 
selves  worthily  of  their  profession.  But  I  cannot 
perceive  that  they  are  any  more  shining  examples 
of  virtue  than  other  men.  In  fact,  I  have  seen 
such  violations  of  the  law  of  Christ,  so  much  of 
cant,  formality,  and  hypocrisy,  so  much  worldli- 
ness  of  spirit  with  a  pretence  of  religion,  in  those 
who  are  called  church-members,  that  I  have  no 
idea  of  becoming  one  of  their  number."  Such 
language  is  not  unfrequently  used  ;  it  is  easy  to 
reply  to  it,  that  no  one  supposes  that  the  fact  of  a 
man's  joining  the  Church  exempts  him  from  the 
temptations  common  to  human  nature,  and  that 
the  standard  of  character  in  the  Church,  though 
not  as  high  as  we  could  wish,  is  much  higher 
than  that  in  the  community  at  large.  But  the  re 
ply  already  given,  in  the  words  of  Christ,  and  made 
to  the  objector  in  his  name,  is  amply  sufficient  to 
meet  the  case.  "  What  is  that  to  thee  ?  Follow 
thou  me."  Let  all  the  real  deficiencies  of  the 
Church  and  church-members  be  admitted,  they  af 
fect  neither  the  command  of  the  Lord,  nor  the 
duty  of  those  who  believe  in  him.  If  others  have 
sinned,  the  evil  they  have  done  will  be  yet  great 
er,  if  it  have  the  effect  of  causing  thee  to  neglect 
thy  duty.  If  the  cross  of  Christ  has  been  borne 
by  so  many  unfaithfully,  still  greater  is  the  reason 


58  THE  LORD'S  SUPPER. 

for  increasing  the  scanty  number  of  its  faithful 
supporters.  Assume  it,  then,  thyself,  neither  de- 
spondingly  nor  proudly,  —  neither  feeling  that  it 
will  be  dishonored  in  thy  hands,  nor  claiming 
that  thou  canst  bear  it  better  than  others  have 
done  ;  but  calmly  determined  to  do  thine  own  du 
ty  to  the  best  of  thine  ability,  beseeching  Divine 
assistance,  and  leaving  the  judgment  of  thyself 
and  of  others  with  God,  to  whom  it  belongs.  If 
others  have  sinned,  their  sins  are  upon  themselves  ; 
if  they  have  done  well,  they  will  not  fail  of  their 
reward  ;  but  what  is  that  to  thee,  to  affect  thy 
conduct  ?  Follow  thou  thy  Saviour. 


IS   IT   MY  DUTY   TO  PAKTAKE   OF   THE 
COMMUNION  ? 


I  AM  called  on  to  determine  whether  I  will  offer 
myself  for  reception  to  the  Church.  Let  me  view 
the  important  question  in  the  light  of  duty,  giv 
ing  to  every  consideration,  on  either  side,  its  due 
weight,  but  nothing  more.  I  trust  that  I  sincerely 
desire  to  do  right.  I  would  lay  aside  all  unworthy 
thoughts,  whether  of  ostentation  in  making  a  pro 
fession,  or  of  timidity  in  declining  it.  It  is  a 
question  of  duty,  and,  viewing  it  in  that  solemn 
character,  all  such  feelings  as  these  must  be  re 
linquished.  Ostentation  !  How  can  I  think  of 
such  a  thing  in  the  presence  of  my  God  ?  Ti 
midity  !  If,  indeed,  God  calls  me,  shall  I  fear  the 
face  of  man  ? 

But  does  God  indeed  call  me  to  an  act  of  this 
kind  ?  What  is  there  in  my  circumstances  that 
renders  it  more  proper  for  me  than  for  many  oth- 


60  THE  LORD'S  SUPPER. 

ers,  who  yet,  I  see,  retire  with  me  when  the  com 
munion-table  is  spread  ?  Some  of  them  are  my 
superiors  in  age  and  in  character.  While  they 
withdraw,  can  I  with  propriety  remain  ?  Yet  let 
me  reflect.  I  know  not  their  motives  in  withhold 
ing  their  attendance.  I  know  not  how  far  they 
are  justified.  I  cannot  judge  them  ;  God  is  their 
only  judge  ;  but  is  he  not  also  mine  ?  If  others 
must  decide  for  themselves  in  this  matter  what  is 
right,  must  not  I  also  for  myself  ?  Let  me  act, 
then,  not  according  to  what  others  deem  their  du 
ty,  but  by  what  appears  to  me  to  be  my  own. 

And  if  I  find  that  I  have  been  influenced  by 
their  example,  let  me  reflect  if  others  may  not  be 
by  mine.  Are  none  now  prevented  from  uniting 
with  the  Church  by  seeing  that  I  do  not  ?  At 
least,  are  none  discouraged  by  seeing  that  crowd 
retire,  of  which  I  form  one  ?  Might  not  some  be 
induced  to  think  of  their  duty  in  this  respect,  if 
they  knew  that  I  had  joined  the  Church  ?  Cannot 
I  think  of  some  among  my  friends  upon  whom 
such  an  act  on  my  part  would  have  a  useful  in 
fluence  ? 

By  uniting  with  the  Church,  I  should  give  my 
testimony  in  behalf  of  religion.  Would  not  that 
testimony  have  its  weight  in  commending  religion 
to  those  I  love  ? 


IS    IT    MY   DUTY    TO    PARTAKE    OF    IT  ?  61 

But  am  I,  indeed,  fit  to  join  the  Church.  My 
character  is  imperfect.  I  am  often  conscious  of 
not  exercising  due  self-restraint.  Let  me  reflect 
upon  my  faults.  What  are  my  most  easily  beset 
ting  sins  ? 

As  memory  presents  them  to  me,  I  shrink,  in 
deed,  from  coming,  thus  weak  and  imperfect,  to 
join  the  company  of  Christ's  professed  disciples. 
Yet  let  me  reflect.  Is  it  not  as  sinners  that  we 
must  approach,  if  we  would  find  acceptance  ? 
Yes,  but  as  repentant  sinners.  Am  I,  then,  truly 
repentant  ? 

Is  there  a  cherished  sin,  that  I  am  unwilling  to 
forsake  ?  If  so,  let  me  not  venture  to  make  a 
profession,  which  under  such  circumstances  would 
be  hypocritical.  But  so  it  must  not  be.  Shall  I 
prefer  sin  to  holiness,  destruction  to  salvation  ? 

I  hope,  I  trust,  that  I  am  truly  penitent.  But  I 
am  conscious  of  weakness.  As  I  have  fallen  into 
sin,  so  I  may  fall  again  ;  and  then,  if  I  am  a 
member  of  the  Church,  my  offence  will  be  more 
disgraceful  to  myself,  and  more  injurious,  than  at 
present. 

But  are  not  all  human  beings  liable  to  fall  ? 
Shall  none,  then,  join  the  Church,  lest  they  should 
disgrace  their  profession  ? 

The  question  resolves  itself  to  this.     Is  there  a 


62  THE  LORD'S  SUPPER. 

reasonable  probability  that  my  future  course  will 
be  such  as  shall  not  inflict  dishonor  on  the  cause 
of  Christ  ? 

I  feel  my  own  weakness,  but  is  not  my  strength 
on  high  ?  God  will  sustain  me,  if  I  pray  to  him. 
Have  I  formed  the  habit  of  secret  prayer  ?  Is 
prayer  with  me  an  outward  form  merely,  or  is 
my  heart  there  ?  Am  I  firm  in  my  resolution  to 
continue  steadfast  in  prayer  and  effort  ? 

Lord  !  thou  knowest  my  weakness,  be  thou  my 
strength  ! 

Perhaps  I  can  judge  something  of  the  perma 
nence  of  my  good  resolutions  by  their  past  his 
tory.  Are  religious  thoughts  of  recent  date 
with  me,  excited  by  some  sudden  cause,  or  have 
they  been  for  a  length  of  time  gradually  devel 
oped  ?  In  the  latter  case,  I  may  have  more 
confidence  that  they  will  be  permanent,  than  in 
the  former. 

Yet,  in  the  former  case,  I  must  not  quench  the 
spirit.  If  it  should  appear,  on  full  reflection,  that 
I  am  not  yet  fitted  to  join  the  Church,  let  me  at 
least  resolve  on  such  a  course  of  life  as  shall  give 
maturity  to  my  present  religious  impressions. 
Daily  prayer,  reading  of  the  Scriptures,  self-ex 
amination  from  time  to  time,  —  say  at  some  stated 
hour  of  every  Sabbath,  —  let  me  resolve  on  these, 


IS    IT    MY    DUTY   TO    PARTAKE    OF    IT  ?          63 

as  means  for  deepening  and  strengthening  my  re 
ligious  character. 

And  should  not  the  same  course  be  pursued  if 
I  unite  with  the  Church  ?  Assuredly.  Thus  much, 
then,  is  at  least  attained.  Lord  !  grant  thy  bless 
ing,  that  I  may  keep  the  resolution. 

I  talk  of  joining  the  Church.  But  are  not  all 
believers  really  members  of  the  Church  of  Christ  ? 
What  right  have  the  few  who  commune  to  arro 
gate  that  title  to  themselves  alone  ? 

Nay,  but  is  it  not  rather  true  that  others  volun 
tarily  relinquish  that  title,  than  that  they  assume 
it  ?  If  all  are  members  of  the  Church,  then  should 
all  partake  of  the  Church's  ordinances.  And  with 
us,  all  are  at  liberty  to  do  this  who  believe  in 
Christ,  and  are  not  excluded  on  account  of  im 
moral  conduct.  The  distinction,  then,  between 
Church  and  congregation,  so  far  as  there  is  any 
thing  wrong  in  it,  is  chargeable,  not  on  those  who 
commune,  but  on  those  who  decline  communing. 
If  all  did  their  duty,  Church  and  congregation 
would  be  the  same. 

But  are  my  feelings  such,  with  regard  to  the 
communion,  that  I  can  with  profit  partake  of  it  ? 
Can  it  be  edifying  to  me  ? 

Can  it  be  otherwise  to  contemplate  my  Saviour 
at  the  period  of  his  course  when  his  holy  charac- 


64  THE  LORD'S  SUPPER. 

ter  was  most  touchingly  displayed  ?  Bread  and 
wine  are,  indeed,  but  outward  elements  ;  but  they 
are  emblems  of  the  Lord's  body  and  blood.  Am 
I  so  sensual  that  I  cannot,  in  receiving  them,  think 
of  their  emblematic  meaning  ? 

I  have  said  that  I  would  at  stated  seasons  exam 
ine  myself.  Will  not  the  communion  present  the 
most  suitable  occasion  for  this  duty  ?  Let  it  be 
the  task  of  every  Lord's  day  ;  but  sometimes  I 
should  comprehend  in  my  survey  a  longer  period 
of  time  than  from  one  Sabbath  to  another ;  and 
when  can  this  be  more  suitably  done  than  at  the 
communion  ? 

Will  it  not  aid  me  to  keep  my  good  resolutions, 
that  I  have  thus  professed  them  before  my  fellow- 
men  and  before  my  God  ? 

Christ,  my  Saviour,  requests  this  mark  of  grat 
itude  from  me.  Can  I  refuse  it  ? 

Christ,  my  Master,  commands  this  service. 
Shall  I  disobey  ? 

I  feel  the  force  of  considerations  such  as  these. 
My  only  doubt  must  be,  whether  my  conduct  will 
be  answerable  to  the  profession  I  make.  And  this 
doubt,  I  know,  ought  not  entirely  to  withhold  me. 
It  may  require  me  to  delay  the  act,  until  I  have 
by  experience  tested  my  ability  to  walk  according 
to  the  law  of  God.  Yet  let  me  remember  that  delay 


IS    IT    MY    DUTY   TO    PARTAKE    OF    IT  ?          65 

is  dangerous.  If  I  postpone  at  all  this  duty,  let  it 
be  for  a  designated  time  ;  and  let  that  time  be 
given,  as  far  as  possible,  to  the  careful  use  of  the 
various  means  of  Christian  advancement.  Have 
I  not  cause  to  fear  even  such  delay,  lest  I  lose 
something  of  my  present  interest  ?  Aid  me,  O 
God,  by  the  spirit  of  wisdom,  that  I  may  decide 
aright ! 


PART    II. 
OTJK    SAYIOUTt 


PART    II. 
OUR  SAVIOUR. 

CHRIST  THE  IMAGE   OF  GOD. 

IT  is  a  distinguishing  beauty  of  the  Christian  re 
ligion,  that,  while  it  teaches  the  purely  spiritual 
character  of  our  Creator,  it  presents  to  us,  in  Je 
sus,  a  copy  of  his  moral  perfections,  suited  to  our 
comprehension,  and  worthy  of  our  highest  love 
and  reverence.  But  for  this,  the  Divine  Being,  in 
all  the  majesty  of  his  infinite  attributes,  might 
have  appeared  too  exalted  even  for  our  worship. 
Our  thoughts,  accustomed  to  the  visible,  corporeal 
objects  around  us,  cannot  long  endure  the  contem 
plation  of  the  invisible,  incorporeal,  infinite  Mind. 
Hence,  many  nations  have  fallen  into  idolatry  ; 
either  representing  their  Maker  by  some  visible 
image,  or  worshipping  instead  some  natural  ob 
ject,  as  the  sun,  the  moon,  or  the  stars.  In  the 


70  OUR    SAVIOUR. 


Hebrew  nation,  how  constantly  were  prophecies, 
miracles,  chastisements,  necessary  to  counteract  a 
similar  tendency  !  Yet  they  were  provided  with 
outward  objects  of  reverence,  in  their  temple  and 
their  ceremonial  law.  At  length  their  tendency 
to  idolatry  was  subdued  ;  and  in  the  heathen  world, 
also,  intellectual  refinement  had  prepared  the  way 
for  a  spiritual  religion.  That  religion  was  be 
stowed  upon  the  world.  But,  spiritual  as  it  is,  it 
was  beneficently  adapted  to  human  infirmity. 
While  the  Almighty  remains,  and  ever  must  re 
main,  exalted  above  our  highest  comprehension, 
he  has  graciously  furnished  us  with  an  image  of 
himself,  in  the  character  of  Jesus  ;  so  that  when 
our  attention  is  overpowered  in  the  contemplation 
of  the  Eternal  Father,  we  may  yet  gaze,  un 
wearied,  on  the  "  brightness  of  his  glory,"  as  it 
beams  in  milder  lustre  in  the  person  of  his  holy 
messenger. 

With  this  thought  is  to  be  connected  another. 
Though  the  character  of  the  Eternal  be,  in  its  ful 
ness,  far  too  high  for  our  conceptions,  yet  the  re 
semblance  of  that  character  exists,  to  some  de 
gree,  in  ourselves.  We  are  made  in  the  image 
of  God  ;  and,  debased  as  our  natures  have  been 
by  our  own  sins,  that  image  still  exists  in  us.  We 
could  never  understand  any  thing  of  the  justice  or 


THE    IMAGE    OF    GOD.  71 

the  benevolence  of  God,  did  not  justice  and  benev 
olence  exist  in  ourselves.  We  conceive  of  every 
Divine  attribute  only  by  the  possession  of  its  like 
ness.  The  peculiarity,  then,  in  the  character 
of  Jesus,  which  makes  him  to  us  a  representative 
of  the  Father,  is,  that  he  was  a  perfect  man,  — 
that  in  him,  this  image,  which  to  some  degree  ex 
ists  in  each  of  us,  was  found  in  perfection.  In 
contemplating  him,  then,  we  are  led  to  a  fuller 
knowledge  of  the  Divine  character,  while  at  the 
same  time  we  view  our  own  nature  in  that  perfec 
tion  which  may  be  to  ourselves  the  crown  of  eter 
nal  happiness  in  another  world.  He  stood  on 
earth,  in  human  nature,  indeed,  but  in  human  na 
ture  pure  from  sin,  —  in  that  human  nature  which 
reflects  the  glories  of  the  Divine. 

In  confirmation  of  this  view,  let  us  contemplate 
his  character  more  nearly,  as  delineated  by  the 
four  Evangelists. 

But  to  what  point  shall  we  turn  ?  Even  those 
who  have  denied  his  claim  to  a  supernatural  com 
mission,  acknowledge  the  loveliness,  the  glory,  of 
that  heavenly  character  ;  yet  when  we  approach 
it,  we  stand  surprised  as  well  as  awed.  Its  har 
mony  prevents  us,  for  a  time,  from  understanding 
it.  The  man  Christ  Jesus  is  not  like  other  men. 
The  moment  we  think  of  others,  with  whose  his- 


72  OUR    SAVIOUR. 


tory  we  are  familiar,  their  leading  traits  recur  to 
our  remembrance.  With  the  name  of  Peter  is 
connected  inseparably  the  idea  of  impetuous  zeal ; 
the  character  of  Paul  is  ever  that  of  one  formed 
to  command  ;  that  of  John  exhibits  one  formed  to 
love.  But  when  we  look  to  Jesus,  what  trait  in 
him  shall  we  select  as  shining  above  all  the  rest  ? 
None  !  and  this  constitutes  one  of  those  moral 
miracles  which  so  strongly  assist  the  evidence  to 
the  truth  of  Christianity.  The  character  of  Jesus 
is  not  one  which  any  person  would  have  invented. 
It  would  have  borne  the  impress  of  its  fabrica 
tor.  As  it  is,  it  bears  the  impress  of  heaven,  and 
of  heaven  alone.  Never  man  spake  like  that 
man  ;  never  man  lived  like  him  ;  never  man  died 
like  him.  Look  at  his  character  ;  —  consider  it 
well ;  then  point  out  its  peculiar  grace.  Is  it  the 
love  of  God  and  submission  to  him,  revealed  in 
the  agony  of  the  garden,  and  in  his  daily  converse 
with  the  Supreme  ?  But  is  his  love  to  those 
around  him  less  beautiful,  manifested  as  it  is  in  his 
long  parting  conversation,  —  manifested  through 
out  his  life,  and  at  his  death  ?  And  will  you  se 
lect  these  traits  of  character  as  bearing  peculiarly 
the  impress  of  superiority  ?  Look  yet  again. 
The  eye  that  wept  over  the  tomb  of  Lazarus  could 
awe,  with  a  look  that  struck  them  backward  to  the 


THE    IMAGE    OF    GOD.  73 

earth,  the  soldiers  who  came  to  take  him.  The 
tongue  that  spoke  such  words  of  boundless  love  to 
his  followers,  struck  terror  to  the  consciences  of 
the  guilty  Pharisees.  He  who  humbled  himself 
to  wash  the  feet  of  his  disciples,  appeared  equally 
in  the  majesty  of  heavenly  perfection,  whether  he 
rode  into  Jerusalem  amid  the  hosannas  of  the 
people,  or  stood  a  prisoner  in  the  hall  of  the  chief 
priest  or  of  Pilate.  The  same  being  who  prayed 
that  the  cup  of  sorrow  might  be  taken  from  him, 
yet  in  submission  to  the  will  of  Him  who  gave  it, 
the  same  being  it  was  who  made  those  replies  of 
patient  dignity,- —  "  If  I  have  spoken  evil,  bear 
witness  of  the  evil ;  but  if  well,  why  smitest  thou 
me  ?  "  "  Thou  couldst  have  no  power  at  all 
against  me,  except  it  were  given  thee  from 
above."  "  Daughters  of  Jerusalem,  weep  not 
for  me,  but  weep  for  yourselves  and  for  your 
children."  His  character  is  a  union  of  qualities 
seldom  found  together,  never  but  in  him  found  to 
gether  in  perfection.  From  this  we  may  derive 
a  most  important  lesson,  that,  in  aiming  at  the  pu 
rification  and  exaltation  of  our  own  characters,  we 
should  not  make  it  our  object  to  excel  in  one 
point  or  in  a  few  points  merely,  but  in  all ;  and 
that  we  should  never  rest  till  the  victory  be  gained, 
till  we  come  to  the  stature  of  perfect  men  in  Christ 


74  OUR    SAVIOUR. 


Jesus,  deficient  in  no  part,  but  formed  in  beautiful 
proportion  to  the  resemblance  of  our  glorious 
model. 

We  thus  contemplate  in  Jesus  the  image  of  Di 
vine  excellence,  united,  identified,  with  the  perfec 
tion  of  human  virtue.  What  a  field  for  meditation 
is  open  before  us  here  !  In  Jesus  the  Divine  and  hu 
man  characters  meet ;  through  Jesus  we  learn  that 
we  are  truly  created  in  the  image  of  God,  for  we  see 
that  image  in  him  while  we  recognize  him  as  one 
of  our  brethren.  How  important  is  the  truth  thus 
impressed  !  We  are  sharers  in  the  Divine  char 
acter  ;  we  are  like  God  ;  —  we  may  become  more 
like  him.  Already  are  we  like  him  in  all  that  is 
worthiest,  most  elevated,  in  our  principles  and 
conduct ;  and  that  the  resemblance  may  be  in 
creased,  he  has  stamped  this  more  perfect  image 
of  himself  on  a  human  being,  and  presents  that 
being  to  us  as  the  object  of  our  love,  and  rever 
ence,  and  imitation. 

At  length,  we  trust,  a  time  will  come  when  we 
shall  be  like  our  Saviour,  "  for  we  shall  see  him 
as  he  is."  Then,  in  the  nearer  contemplation  of 
Divine  perfections,  shall  we  attain  that  freedom 
from  sin,  that  high  degree  of  holiness,  which  con 
stituted  Jesus,  and  will  constitute  us,  "  the  image 
of  the  Invisible  God."  Glorious,  transcendent 


THE    IMAGE    OF    GOD.  75 

destiny  !  If  men  could  but  realize  it,  —  if  they 
had  faith  in  what  the  Gospel  teaches,  —  if  they 
but  believed  and  felt  the  sacred  truth,  that  they 
are  children  of  God,  and  are  to  become  like  their 
Father,  and  to  live  for  ever  with  him,  —  how  ea 
gerly  would  they  turn  from  the  prizes  of  ambi 
tion,  however  bright,  —  from  the  pursuit  of  rich 
es,  however  engrossing,  —  from  sensual  pleasure, 
however  fascinating,  —  and  think  no  labor,  no  pri 
vation,  no  endurance,  too  severe,  so  that  their  im 
mortal  hopes  might  be  secured  ! 


CHRIST  OUR  BROTHER. 


WHATEVER  views  may  be  entertained  by  any 
with  respect  to  the  exalted  character  and  office 
of  our  holy  Master,  all  admit  him  to  have  been, 
in  the  most  obvious  sense,  a  brother  of  the  great 
family  of  man.  Like  us  he  lay,  a  feeble  infant, 
in  his  mother's  arms  ;  like  us,  he  acquired,  grad 
ually,  as  month  succeeded  month,  and  year  fol 
lowed  year,  a  knowledge  of  the  objects  around 
him  ;  like  ours,  his  young  thoughts  were  strength 
ened  by  degrees,  till  able  to  take  in  the  great  idea 
of  God.  Like  ours,  too,  his  moral  strength  grew 
with  his  bodily  and  intellectual.  As  he  "  in 
creased  in  wisdom  and  stature,"  so  also  "  in  fa 
vor  with  God  and  man."  It  was  gradually  that 
the  innocence  of  childhood  ripened  into  the  virtue 
of  perfected  humanity.  So,  too,  in  after  life,  like 
us  he  became  acquainted  with  the  various  forms 
of  suffering  by  actual  experience.  He  shared  the 


OUR    BROTHER.  77 


pleasures  and  the  pains  of  human  nature.  He 
was  "  found  in  fashion  as  a  man,"  and  was 
"  made  perfect  through  sufferings. "  "  In  all 
things  it  behooved  him  to  be  made  like  unto  his 
brethren." 

And  as  we  regard  his  character  as  the  standard 
of  perfect  humanity,  we  are  not  surprised  to  find 
that  the  feelings,  which  are  often  rudely  checked 
and  kept  from  their  full  development,  were  in  him 
more  strongly  exhibited  than  they  are  in  the  ma 
jority  of  mankind.  The  susceptibility  to  pain, 
which  made  the  anticipations  in  Gethsemane  so 
agonizing  to  him,  has  been  eagerly  noticed  by 
those  who  would  rejoice  to  find  something  to  cen 
sure  in  his  holy  character  ;  —  not  perceiving  that, 
the  more  agonizing  was  his  idea  of  the  tortures 
he  was  to  undergo,  the  greater  was  the  triumph 
of  courage,  love,  and  holiness  in  enduring  them. 
The  keenness  with  which  every  gentler  emotion 
was  felt  by  him  has  been  often  commented  on, 
exhibited,  as  it  was,  in  his  last  affectionate  meet 
ing  with  his  disciples  before  his  death,  his  friend 
ship  for  the  Apostle  John,  for  Lazarus  and  his  sis 
ters,  and  his  care,  even  in  death,  for  the  comfort 
and  future  home  of  his  bereaved  mother. 

Nor  is  his  participation  in  human  nature  and 
human  feelings  alone  the  ground  on  which  we 


78  OUR    SAVIOUR. 


speak  of  the  brotherhood  of  Christ  with  man. 
He  exhibited  to  mankind  a  brother's  love.  Ev 
er  before  his  mind,  probably  from  the  earliest 
thoughtful  hours  of  youth,  was  the  great  object  of 
benefiting  the  human  race,  as  that  object  has  been 
before  the  minds  of  the  wise  and  the  holy,  who 
have  left  names  honored  on  the  records  of  philan 
thropic  exertion.  Thus  does  the  great  English 
poet  describe  him,  as  communing  with  himself  in 
meditation. 

"  When  I  was  yet  a  child,  no  childish  play 
To  me  was  pleasing ;  all  my  mind  was  set 
Serious  to  learn  and  know,  and  thence  to  do 
What  might  be  public  good  :  myself  I  thought 
Born  to  that  end,  born  to  promote  all  truth." 

"  Victorious  deeds 

Flamed  in  my  heart,  heroic  acts  ;  one  while 
To  rescue  Israel  from  the  Roman  yoke, 
Then  to  subdue  and  quell,  o'er  all  the  earth, 
Brute  violence  and  proud  tyrannic  power, 
Till  truth  were  freed  and  equity  restored ; 
Yet  held  it  more  humane,  more  heavenly,  first 
By  winning  words  to  conquer  willing  hearts, 
And  make  persuasion  do  the  work  of  fear." 

Paradise  Regained,  Book  I. 

We  can  well  believe  that  the  genius  of  Milton, 
itself  so  conversant  with  all  that  is  high  and  noble, 
depicted  rightly,  in  this  passage,  the  early  medita- 


OUR    BROTHER.  79 


tions  of  the  Son  of  God,  the  Brother,  the  Friend, 
the  Saviour  of  mankind.  And  conformable  to 
such  high  anticipations,  only  more  elevated  still, 
as  the  maturity  of  a  holy  life  exceeds  the  loftiest 
conception  of  it  that  youth  can  form,  was  the 
course  which  he  actually  pursued.  Well  is  it 
said  of  him,  that  he  u  went  about  doing  good." 
His  supernatural  powers  were  constantly  exerted  to 
relieve  pain,  and  increase  happiness  ;  and  not  these 
alone.  He  was,  wherever  he  went,  the  consoler 
of  the  afflicted,  the  rescuer  of  the  fallen,  the  re- 
buker,  and  thus  in  truth  the  friend,  of  those  who 
sinned  through  hypocrisy  and  pride.  Yes,  to  the 
Pharisee,  as  to  the  publican,  Jesus  came  as  a 
friend  ;  —  if  his  language  was  stern,  it  was  a  sal 
utary  sternness,  and  the  difference  of  his  recep 
tion  by  the  two  classes  was  not  from  partiality  in 
him,  but  from  un worthiness  on  the  part  of  those 
who  rejected  him.  But  his  immediate  intercourse 
with  those  around  him,  whether  in  healing  their 
outward  infirmities,  or  ministering  to  their  spirit 
ual  wants,  constituted  but  a  small  part  of  the  ben 
efits  he  conferred  upon  mankind.  Only  by  a 
portion  of  the  inhabitants  of  the  small  country  of 
Judea  was  his  voice  directly  heard  ;  only  to  a 
smaller  number  among  them  were  his  blessings  of 
outward  healing  wrought  ;  but  to  the  millions  of 


80  OUR    SAVIOUR. 


the  civilized  world,  for  age  after  age,  has  he  ad 
ministered  comfort  in  sorrow,  strength  for  duty, 
salvation  from  sin  and  from  its  consequent  mis 
ery.  Christ  came  with  a  brother's  love,  not  to 
those  around  him  only,  not  to  Israel  alone,  but  to 
the  human  race. 

This  reflection  may  enable  us  to  enter  in  some 
degree  into  the  grandeur  of  our  Saviour's  thoughts. 
He  is  standing  by  the  couch  of  one  whom  he  has 
raised  from  death,  the  daughter  of  the  ruler,  Jai- 
rus.  The  Apostles  look  on  in  awe  at  the  display 
of  Divine  power  and  benignity  ;  the  parents  of 
the  child  are  prostrate  at  his  feet  in  thankfulness, 
then  turn  to  clasp  their  recovered  treasure  to  their 
breasts.  Gratitude,  love,  and  reverence  fill  the 
hearts  of  all,  and  for  what  blessing  ?  That  he 
has  rescued  one  child  from  the  early  grave  to 
which  she  was  to  be  consigned  in  her  innocence, 
that  he  has  recalled  her  to  life,  with  its  many  tri 
als,  its  certain  temptations,  its  uncertain  results  to 
human  happiness  and  virtue.  Amid  the  group 
of  the  thankful  ones  stands  the  Saviour,  receiv 
ing  benignantly  their  words  of  gratitude  ;  but  are 
his  thoughts  alone  with  them  ?  No  ;  his  mental 
sight  surveys  the  thousands  upon  thousands  then 
unborn,  who  should,  through  that  and  other  signs 
of  his  Divine  mission,  be  brought  to  faith  in  him, 


OUR    BROTHER.  81 


and  through  faith  to  blessedness  here  and  hereaf 
ter.  As  he  hath  raised  this  child,  so,  he  feels, 
shall  his  followers  —  a  company  whom  no  man 
can  number  —  be  raised  at  the  last  day.  As  he 
looks  on  the  mother,  weeping  with  joy  at  the  res 
toration  of  the  child  for  whom  she  had  been  weep 
ing  more  bitter  tears,  does  there  not  come  to  him 
the  thought,  how  many  a  mother,  through  ages 
yet  to  come,  should  find  consolation  in  similar  dis 
tress,  by  the  knowledge  which  he  had  brought  of 
the  character  of  God  and  of  the  truth  of  a  res 
urrection  ? 

There  is  something  peculiarly  beautiful  in  the 
guidance  which  a  virtuous  elder  brother  exercises 
for  the  younger  members  of  the  family  ;  and  it 
deserves  to  be  compared  with  the  relation  of  our 
Saviour  to  his  disciples.  There  is  in  such  a  one 
a  blending  of  authority  and  gentleness  ;  a  power, 
whose  origin  is  in  love  and  wisdom  ;  a  feeling 
of  sympathy,  as  well  as  of  superiority.  How  tru 
ly  is  this  displayed  in  the  intercourse  between  our 
Lord  and  his  disciples  !  He  was  their  compan 
ion  ;  the  journey  which  proved  too  wearisome  for 
his  bodily  powers  had  tasked  theirs  also  ;  at  the 
meal  of  which  tliey  partook,  he  broke  the  bread 
and  gave  thanks  ;  some  of  them  were  with  him 
in  his  hour  of  glory  on  the  Mount  of  Transfigura- 


82  OUR    SAVIOUR. 


tion,  and  in  his  hour  of  sorrow  in  Gethsemane. 
But  with  this  near  companionship  there  was  a 
reverence  deep  in  proportion.  More  than  once  it 
withheld  them  from  asking  him  the  meaning  of 
words  which  had  seemed  mysterious.  They 
called  him  Master  and  Lord,  and  he  could  say  to 
them,  with  the  calm  dignity  of  conscious  worth, 
"  Ye  say  well,  for  so  I  am."  Thus  were  the  two 
constituents  of  the  relation  we  have  spoken  of,  as 
existing  between  an  older  brother  and  the  younger 
members  of  the  family,  of  whom  he  is  the  guide, 
united  in  the  intercourse  of  the  disciples  with 
Christ,  —  intimate  companionship  and  affection, 
with  respectful  deference.  And  thus,  too,  we,  as 
we  meditate  on  Christ,  draw  near  to  him  in  spirit, 
and  perceive  those  qualities  in  his  sacred  character 
that  win  an  affection,  a  tender  regard,  resembling 
that  which  binds  us  to  our  best-beloved  earthly 
brethren,  while,  at  the  same  time,  deep,  heartfelt 
reverence  leads  us  to  look  up  to  him,  as  the  holi 
est  of  the  sons  of  God,  —  that  God  who  is  the 
Father  of  us  all. 

Probably  there  is  no  scene  in  which  Jesus 
showed  himself  the  brother  of  mankind  more  tru 
ly,  or  in  a  more  beautiful  manner,  than  when  he 
returned  to  Judea,  to  the  midst  of  his  enemies, 
and  sought  out  the  place  where  the  body  of  Laz- 


OUR    BROTHER.  83 


arus  had  been  laid.  His  personal  affection  to 
the  friend  whom  he  had  lost,  and  to  the  sis 
ters,  brought  out  in  a  clear  light  the  tenderness  of 
his  nature.  He  showed  himself  there  truly  and 
in  the  highest  sense  a  man,  sympathizing  with 
human  griefs,  comforting  human  sorrows  ;  while 
even  in  his  tears  there  is  nothing  extravagant, 
nothing  inconsistent  with  the  dignity  of  his  sub 
lime  office.  The  consummation  of  that  scene, 
the  raising  of  Lazarus  from  the  dead,  filled  with 
awe  and  gratitude  the  minds  of  the  spectators  ; 
but  to  us,  who  see  that  great  transaction  through 
the  mists  of  time,  the  exhibition  of  true  human 
feeling,  blended  with  heavenly  faith,  in  his  pre 
ceding  language  and  deportment,  is  more  impres 
sive  than  when  we  are  told  that  he  who  was  dead 
came  forth  from  the  tomb. 

Christ,  then,  is  our  brother.  "  He  that  sancti- 
fieth  and  they  who  are  sanctified  are  all  of  one  " 
Father ;  "  for  which  cause  he  is  not  ashamed 
to  call  them  brethren."  This  name,  too,  he 
gave  to  those  who  should  obey  his  word,  on 
that  occasion  when  his  relatives  sought  to  hold 
converse  with  him,  in  order,  probably,  to  with 
draw  him  from  what  they  thought  his  too 
great  engrossment  with  the  duties  of  his  office. 
"  Who,"  said  he,  "  is  my  mother,  and  who  are 


84  OUR    SAVIOUR. 


my  brethren  ?  And  he  looked  round  about  upon 
his  disciples  and  said,  Behold  my  mother  and  my 
brethren  ;  for  whosoever  shall  do  the  will  of  God 
and  keep  it,  the  same  is  my  brother,  and  sister, 
and  mother." 

Where  there  is  brotherhood,  there  is  similarity 
of  nature  and  of  powers  ;  the  difference  is  in 
degree,  not  in  kind.  Where,  then,  our  brother 
hath  been,  there  we  may  follow.  Temptations 
which  he  met  and  vanquished,  we  may  aspire  to 
vanquish  also,  in  the  strength  imparted  by  that 
God  who  is  his  Father,  and  ours.  The  glorious 
crown  which  he  won,  transcendent  in  radiance  as 
it  is,  is  not  all  unlike  the  celestial  diadems  which 
are  to  wreathe  the  brows  of  those  who  follow 
in  the  path  he  first  trod.  We  are  encouraged 
to  contemplate  his  character  more  nearly,  when 
we  know  that  its  perfections  are  such  as  our 
minds  are  adequate  to  contemplate,  —  such  as 
we  ourselves  may  more  or  less  nearly  at  length 
resemble. 

The  thought  carries  us  into  the  future  world. 
If  even  here  below,  we  are,  if  we  strive  to  do 
God's  will,  recognized  by  Christ  as  his  brethren, 
how  much  more  truly  may  that  exalted  relation 
ship  be  the  object  of  our  anticipations,  in  connec 
tion  with  the  happiness  of  heaven  !  There,  —  we 


OUR    BROTHER.  85 


are  told  by  one  of  our  elder  brethren,  his  Apos 
tles,  —  there  we  shall  be  like  him,  for  we  shall 
see  him  as  he  is.  Well  may  the  result  follow 
from  the  nearer  communion,  the  enlarged  power 
of  vision  and  of  understanding,  with  which  we  shall 
then  be  favored.  Then  shall  our  present  doubts 
and  differences,  respecting  his  station  in  the  uni 
verse  of  his  Father,  be  removed  ;  the  knowledge 
with  regard  to  his  character,  which  we  can  here 
derive  only  from  meditation  on  the  accounts  of 
the  Evangelists  and  Apostles,  may  there  be  in 
creased  by  more  full  revelations.  Then,  too,  the 
fascinating  enjoyments  of  earth,  the  temptations 
of  sin,  will  be  removed  ;  and,  these  withdrawn, 
we  shall  be  more  able  to  contemplate  and  admire 
the  most  glorious  of  all  objects,  moral  loveliness. 
Then,  to  our  purified  and  quickened  sight  shall  be 
displayed,  far  more  than  here  on  earth,  the  great 
designs  which  Jesus  had  in  view  in  what  he  did, 
and  taught,  and  suffered  ;  and  we  shall  see  the 
depth  and  fulness  of  that  love  which  gave  itself 
for  us.  As  we  behold,  can  we  but  strive  for 
resemblance  ?  Ours  then  shall  be,  if  here  we 
patiently  and  humbly  strive  to  do  God's  will, 
through  ages  without  end  on  high,  the  rap 
ture  of  ever-increasing  resemblance  in  charac 
ter  to  our  glorious  model,  while,  with  each  ap- 


86  OTJR    SAVIOUR. 


proach,  still  closer  and  closer  will  be  drawn  the 
band  of  that  affection  which  unites  our  spirits 
to  their  glorified  Brother,  the  Son  of  God,  the 
Saviour  of  the  world. 


CHRIST  OUR  EXAMPLE. 


THERE  is  one  peculiarity  in  our  Saviour's  moral 
excellence,  which,  in  the  view  of  many,  prevents 
the  full  application  of  his  example  to  our  use.  It 
is  this.  The  stainless  virtue  of  the  Saviour,  we 
are  told,  is  accounted  for  by  his  peculiar  connec 
tion  with  the  Father.  Setting  aside  the  question 
which  has  been  so  much  discussed,  of  his  pos 
sessing  a  share  in  the  Divine  nature,  —  setting 
aside,  also,  the  doctrine  of  his  pre existence,  as  an 
archangelic  being,  —  he  was,  as  man  alone,  priv 
ileged  with  an  intercourse  with  the  Most  High, 
such  as  has  been  granted  to  no  other  among  the 
children  of  men.  The  intimacy  of  that  inter 
course  is  expressed  in  his  own  words,  that  "  no 
man  knoweth  the  Son  but  the  Father,  and  no  man 
knoweth  the  Father  save  the  Son,  and  he  to  whom 
the  Son  will  reveal  him  " ;  —  in  the  repeated  as 
sertions  that  he  came  from  God  and  went  to  God, 


88  OUR    SAVIOUR. 


and  the  strong  expression  that  he  and  the  Father 
are  one.  It  is  implied,  too,  in  the  miraculous 
power  which  he  exercised,  and  in  the  knowledge 
he  constantly  evinced  respecting  the  designs  which 
the  Almighty  intended  to  accomplish  by  his  in 
strumentality.  How,  it  is  asked,  can  a  being  thus 
exalted  be  an  example  to  us  ?  How  can  we, 
weak,  ignorant  creatures,  to  whom  the  Almighty 
has  never  directly  revealed  himself  by  vision  or 
by  miracle,  whose  rebellious  passions  have  never 
been  awed  into  silence  by  the  manifest  presence 
of  the  Holiest  One,  be  called  to  follow  the  steps  — 
say  rather  the  heavenward  flight  —  of  this  divine 
ly  privileged  Son  of  God  ?  Would  it  not  be  as 
reasonable  to  expect  the  savage  to  imitate  the  pro 
found  calculations  of  a  Newton  ? 

How  shall  we  meet  this  difficulty  ?  We  cannot 
but  admit  its  apparent  importance,  yet  we  perceive 
considerations  of  various  kinds  that  may  be  urged 
to  prove  that  still  the  example  of  Jesus,  lofty  and 
divine  as  it  is,  may  rightly  be  held  up  before  us 
as  the  mark  of  our  aspirations,  and  of  our  reason 
able  hope,  too,  for  resemblance. 

In  the  first  place,  let  it  be  remembered  that 
there  is  a  wide  difference  between  the  effort  neces 
sary  to  lead  where  the  path  is  yet  unknown,  and 
that  which  is  required  in  order  to  follow.  We  ad- 


m- 

OUR    EXAMPLE.  89 

mire  the  genius  of  the  great  navigator  who  first 
crossed  the  ocean,  and  revealed  to  astonished  Eu 
rope  the  existence  of  this  New  World.  But  that 
voyage  once  made,  that  knowledge  once  commu 
nicated,  was  any  remarkable  genius  needed  in 
each  of  the  numerous  adventurers  who  followed 
the  track  of  the  world-finder  ?  The  comparison 
has  been  made  of  the  Christian  following  his  Mas 
ter's  example  to  the  savage  vainly  called  on  to 
imitate  the  scientific  investigations  of  a  Newton. 
But  the  sublimest  discoveries  of  Newton  are  now 
familiar  to  thousands.  So  with  the  great  subject 
we  would  illustrate.  Before  the  time  of  Christ, 
revengeful  feelings  were  indulged  by  those  who 
were  regarded  as  the  holiest  men.  David,  whose 
Psalms  give  proof  of  a  heart  full  of  the  most 
glowing  love  and  devotion  toward  God,  yet  spared 
not  the  bitterest  imprecations  against  his  own  per 
sonal  enemies,  and  probably  never  thought  that 
any  future  age  would  see  aught  in  such  senti 
ments  to  condemn.  But  listen  to  the  Saviour  on 
the  cross !  For  the  first  time  the  world  hears,  in 
stead  of  a  curse  upon  successful  enemies,  a  pray 
er  for  them.  "  Father  !  forgive  them,  for  they 
know  not  what  they  do."  The  glorious  example 
is  set,  and  set  once  for  all.  The  words  once 

heard,  all  perceive  their  sublimity,  and  many  are 
8* 


90 


OUR    SAVIOUR. 


capable  of  sufficient  elevation  to  take  them  upon 
their  lips  and  in  their  hearts.  The  very  first  fol 
lower  of  the  Saviour  who  was  put  to  death  in  his 
cause,  the  Martyr  Stephen,  could  die  with  the 
same  sentiment  on  his  tongue,  —  "  Lord,  lay  not 
this  sin  to  their  charge  "  ;  and  hundreds,  if  not 
thousands,  since  his  time,  have  probably  done 
the  same.  So  much  easier  is  it  to  follow  a  glo 
rious  example  than  originally  to  exhibit  it  to  the 
world. 

This  reflection,  we  may  remark,  in  passing, 
while  it  encourages  us  to  regard  the  imitation  of 
our  Saviour  as  attainable,  gives  us  a  more  exalted 
idea  of  the  perfections  of  our  sacred  model,  and 
a  cheering  view  of  the  influence  which  his  life 
has  already  exerted  on  mankind.  The  example 
of  Christ  has  elevated  human  kind  in  general. 
Some  of  the  lessons  he  has  taught  us,  we  cannot 
unlearn  if  we  would.  Those  who  are  careless 
about  his  religion,  those  who  disbelieve  it,  are  the 
better  for  its  instructions.  Every  one  now  knows 
that  the  earth  turns  round  on  its  axis  ;  every 
one  knows  that  it  is  noble  to  forgive  injuries  ;  and, 
as  thousands  who  never  heard  of  Galileo  believe 
the  scientific  truth  he  taught,  so  thousands  are 
profited  by  the  teaching  and  example  of  Christ 
who  acknowledge  no  allegiance  to  his  religion. 


OUR    EXAMPLE.  91 


Our  second  answer  to  the  objection  brought 
against  the  practicableness  of  our  Lord's  example 
is,  that,  sublime  as  was  the  intercourse  with  God 
that  he  enjoyed,  we  possess  something  corre 
sponding.  Of  our  Saviour's  intercourse  with  God, 
some  portion  must  apparently  have  related  to  the 
truths  he  was  to  teach,  and  the  conduct  he  was  to 
observe  in  connection  with  his  high  and  peculiar 
office.  This  extraordinary  and  sublime  commu 
nication  of  the  Godhead  may  have  been  entirely 
different  from  any  thing  which  we  share  or  of 
which  we  have  an  idea.  But  not  so  was  the  com 
munication  between  him  and  his  Heavenly  Fa 
ther,  which  he  enjoyed  as  an  individual  simply, 
apart  from  his  official  character.  We  read  of  his 
praying,  and  we,  too,  can  pray.  We  read  that 
the  spirit  was  given  to  him,  not  by  measure  ; 
we  know  that  it  is  bestowed  on  us,  if  we  seek  it 
aright,  though  more  sparingly.  The  difference,  we 
have  reason  to  believe,  is  not  of  kind,  but  of  de 
gree,  except  so  far  as  related  to  our  Lord's  public 
duties.  What  was  peculiar  in  his  inspiration  was 
for  a  peculiar  purpose  ;  but  those  Divine  supports 
on  which  rested  his  holy  human  character  may, 
to  a  great  extent,  be  ours. 

If,  then,  we  are  told  that  the  example  of  Jesus 
is  too  lofty  for  us  to  imitate,  we  reply,  in  his  own 


92 


OUR    SAVIOUR. 


words,  "  With  men  it  is  impossible,  but  not  with 
God."  "  Will  not  our  Heavenly  Father  give  his 
good  spirit  unto  them  that  ask  him  ?  " 

There  is  another  consideration,  which  may  be 
brought  to  illustrate  the  application  of  our  Sav 
iour's  example  to  ourselves.  Though  his  advan 
tages  for  attaining  high  virtue  were  far  greater 
than  ours,  his  trials  were  also  greater.  This  is  in 
conformity  to  the  general  laws  of  moral  disci 
pline.  The  more  we  attain,  the  more  we  have 
still  before  us,  as  the  traveller  towards  the  heart 
of  a  mountainous  region  sees  each  successive 
ridge  arise  before  him  loftier  than  the  one  he  has 
just  surmounted.  "  To  whom  much  is  given,  of 
him  is  much  required:"  It  is  this  truth  that  equal 
izes  this  world,  as  a  state  of  probation  for  all, 
whether  outwardly  more  or  less  favored.  It  is  this, 
too,  which  makes  it  continue  a  state  of  probation 
to  us,  however  highly  we  may  have  attained. 
Every  new  trust  acquired  has  its  corresponding 
responsibleness  ;  every  assurance  that  our  con 
duct  gives  to  those  around  us  of  our  worth,  leads 
them  to  look  to  us  with  firmer  hope  for  the  future  ; 
and,  if  at  last  we  fail,  renders  our  failure  more 
melancholy.  If,  then,  we  must  admit  that  the  di 
rectness  of  our  Saviour's  intercourse  with  God, 
and  the  knowledge  which  he  possessed  of  his  own 


OUR    EXAMPLE.  93 


wonderful  destiny,  were  safeguards  to  his  virtue 
in  which  we  cannot  share,  let  us  observe,  also,  the 
circumstances  which  exposed  that  virtue  to  trials 
never  endured  by  us.  The  most  obvious  of  these 
circumstances  were  the  danger  which  threatened 
him  from  the  steady  opposition  of  his  most  in 
fluential  countrymen,  a  danger  which  he  well 
knew  would  finally  become  fatal  ;  the  remorseless 
and  unprincipled  nature,  too,  of  that  opposition, 
which  might  have  tempted  another  to  forget  his 
own  dignity  and  the  claims  of  duty  in  the  ex 
citement  of  a  personal  contest  ;  the  allurements, 
too,  of  ambition,  in  the  general  wish  of  his  hear 
ers  that  he  should  become  the  champion,  the  de 
liverer,  of  his  people.  But  these  temptations,  this 
last,  especially,  were  immeasurably  increased  by 
the  character  of  the  powers  he  possessed.  The 
authority  over  nature,  which  apparently  was  con 
fided  to  others  only  in  particular  instances,  was,  if 
we  rightly  understand  the  language  of  Scripture, 
intrusted  to  him  to  an  indefinite  degree.  The 
most  striking  assurance  of  this  is  where  he  told 
his  followers,  at  the  moment  of  his  arrest,  that  he 
could  even  then  pray  to  his  Father  and  receive 
the  aid  of  more  than  twelve  legions  of  angels  ; 
adding,  "  But  how  then  shall  the  Scriptures  be 
fulfilled,  that  thus  it  must  be  ?  "  His  power, 

n  -  m 


94  OUR    SAVIOUR. 


then,  was  discretionary.  And,  reasoning  from 
analogy,  we  may  conclude  that  his  choice  of 
means  and  plans  of  action  was,  to  a  great  degree, 
discretionary  also.  Unless  we  believe  this,  we 
must  regard  him  as  less  a  free  agent  in  his 
mighty  work  than  any  uninspired  reformer  in 
his  humbler  sphere.  What  a  view  of  our  Lord's 
power,  and  of  his  self-denial  in  the  use  there 
of,  do  these  considerations  present !  What  a 
view,  also,  of  the  greatness  of  the  temptations 
which  he  had  to  subdue  !  He  was  made  king 
of  the  world,  —  animate  and  inanimate.  The 
thrones  of  earth  were  at  his  command.  Nay, 
more,  it  needed  not,  in  order  to  attain  any  degree 
of  earthly  triumph,  that  he  should  renounce  his 
high  office  as  teacher  of  mankind,  or  prove  dis 
tinctly  unfaithful  to  his  charge.  Invested  at  dis 
cretion  with  these  most  lofty  powers,  the  question 
was  for  him  to  decide  how  he  was  to  use  them  for 
the  best  interest  of  mankind.  He  had  it  in  his 
choice  to  bless  the  world  as  a  conqueror,  as  a 
peaceful  though  prosperous  king,  or  as  a  victim. 
He  had  the  guidance,  indeed,  of  those  prophecies 
which  intimated  the  suffering  that  marked  his 
course,  and  of  the  spirit  of  God  to  illuminate  and 
strengthen.  But  with  his  power,  and  with  the 
choice  left  to  himself  how  he  should  exert  it,  the 


OUR    EXAMPLE. 


temptation  must  have  been  strong  indeed.  He 
was  so  aware  of  its  strength,  that  he  appears  to 
have  felt,  as  with  our  less  temptations  we  should 
feel,  that  safety  lay  in  not  for  one  moment  listen 
ing  to  it.  Hence  the  sternness  of  his  rebuke  to 
that  disciple  who  ventured  to  remonstrate  on  his 
chosen  course.  "  Get  thee  behind  me,  adversary, 
thou  art  a  cause  of  sin  to  me  ;  for  thou  savorest 
not  the  things  that  be  of  God,  but  the  things  that 
be  of  man."  If,  then,  we  feel  that  our  Lord  pos 
sessed  spiritual  aids  that  we  cannot  share,  let  un 
remember,  also,  that  trials  and  temptations  were 
his,  far  beyond  any  that  we  are  called  to  en 
counter. 

The  same  truth  may  be  illustrated  in  a  differ 
ent  manner.  The  higher  man  ascends  in  virtue, 
the  more  his  delicacy  of  conscience  increases. 
Things  which  at  first  appeared  innocent  to  him, 
now,  regarded  by  a  purer  sight,  are  classed 
among  those  which  he  must  avoid.  The  aspira 
tion  of  the  mere  novice  in  the  Christian  charac 
ter  may  go  no  higher  than  to  avoid  dishonesty, 
profane  language,  and  other  of  the  grosser  and 
more  obvious  faults.  As  he  becomes  more  ad 
vanced,  he  learns  to  appreciate  the  duty  of  reg 
ulating  his  language  by  the  rules  of  consideration 
and  kindness,  and  exercising  watchfulness  over 


96  OUR    SAVIOUR. 


his  thoughts.  Tims  we  find  the  case  to  be  in  the 
imperfect  degrees  of  virtue  we  are  here  privileged 
to  attain  ;  and  we  have  reason  to  believe,  that,  in 
those  higher  acquisitions  which  our  Saviour  made, 
the  law  was  still  the  same  ;  —  that  the  exquisite 
delicacy  of  his  conscience  recognized  distinctions 
between  right  and  wrong  that  are  imperceptible 
to  us,  and  that  thus  the  spiritual  aid  he  received 
was  no  more  than  proportioned  to  the  occasion  he 
found  for  its  use. 

If  the  views  we  have  taken  be  correct,  our  Ho 
ly  Redeemer,  with  all  his  supernatural  powers, 
was  yet  a  fitting  model  for  tempted  mortals  ;  for 
he,  too,  was  tempted.  He,  too,  was  called  to 
wage  a  continual  war  against  inducements  that 
were  presented  to  him  to  withdraw  him  in  some 
degree  from  that  sublime  service  which  he  under 
took.  But  he  resisted  every  temptation,  chose 
and  retained  the  path  of  the  sufferer  when  he 
might  have  trod  in  that  of  universal  empire,  and 
set  to  mankind  the  example  of  sinlessness,  —  the 
most  perfect  in  holiness  of  all  God's  children. 
We  perceive,  also,  that,  this  example  once  set,  to 
follow  it  is  a  far  easier  task,  as  the  humblest  stu 
dent  may  now  tread  in  the  path  of  Newton,  and 
the  obscurest  navigator  can  follow  in  the  track  of 
Columbus.  The  example  of  Jesus,  then,  is  prac- 


OUR    EXAMPLE.  97 

tical.  It  is  not  too  high  for  man  to  aspire  to  be 
like  him.  Nor  is  it  perfect  resemblance  which 
the  justice  of  God,  tempered  by  his  mercy,  de 
mands  of  us.  If  the  endeavour  be  sincere,  the 
spirit  humble,  and  the  faith  devout,  deficiencies 
will  be  forgiven.  With  that  high  example,  then, 
in  view,  with  so  much  to  aid  our  path  and  to  show 
us  the  greater  difficulties  that  beset  our  Saviour's, 
shall  we  fail  to  strive  for  the  prize  of  holiness 
which  he  has  shown  us  how  to  win  ?  Let  us  re 
solve,  like  him,  to  serve  our  God  and  our  race  ; 
like  him,  to  suffer  no  earthly  hope  or  fear  to  stand 
between  us  and  duty  ;  like  him,  to  love  and  aid 
even  those  by  whom  we  have  been  unjustly  treat 
ed  ;  like  him,  even  in  the  hour  of  life's  parting 
anguish,  to  bow  meekly  to  the  will  of  God,  to 
comfort  the  distress  of  friends,  to  relieve  and  sup 
port  the  spirit  of  the  trembling  penitent,  and  pray 
for  our  Father's  blessing,  even  on  our  enemies. 


CHRIST'S  ANTICIPATIONS. 


As  our  Redeemer  drew  near  to  the  closing 
scenes  of  his  ministry,  the  thought  of  all  that  was 
to  come  appears  to  have  been  constantly  present 
to  his  mind.  Did  the  grateful  Mary  pour  oint 
ment  on  his  head  ?  He  referred  the  act,  though 
occurring  in  the  hour  of  festivity,  to  his  approach 
ing  burial.  Did  Gentile  strangers  seek  an  inter 
view  with  him  ?  He  replied  to  the  disciple  who 
brought  their  request,  "  The  hour  is  come  that  the 
Son  of  man  should  be  glorified,"  and  then  turned 
from  the  thought  of  glory  to  that  of  death.*  We 
may  enter  more  fully  into  the  Saviour's  feelings, 
by  taking  a  brief  view  of  those  objects  which  pre 
sented  themselves  to  his  prophetic  anticipation. 

The  event  most  distinctly  before  his  mind  was 
death,  from  which,  under  nearly  all  circumstances, 

*  John  xii.  3-7;  20-27. 


HIS    ANTICIPATIONS.  99 

human  nature  shrinks  with  loathing  and  dread.  It 
was  death,  too,  in  a  form  at  once  the  most  detested, 
from  the  infamy  it  usually  implied,  and  abhorred, 
from  the  complication  of  bodily  pain  which  at 
tended  it.  Of  all  the  torments  which  bloody  man 
has  invented  for  his  fellow-man,  none,  probably, 
has  implied  more  of  suffering  than  crucifixion.  It 
was  a  lingering  death ;  though,  in  the  case  of  our 
Redeemer,  its  pangs  were  far  shorter  than  in  most 
instances,  yet  with  him  the  agony  of  the  con 
strained  position,  the  lacerated  flesh,  the  burning 
limbs,  the  scorching  thirst,  endured  about  three 
hours.  Nor  was  this  all ;  previous  to  these 
tortures,  which  drove  out  life,  the  sufferer  bore 
the  infliction  of  the  scourge,  with  the  accompa 
nying  insults  of  a  brutal  soldiery,  and  then  was 
obliged  to  cariy  the  cross  to  the  spot  where  the 
execution  was  to  take  place.  This  burden  was 
so  heavy,  that  the  strength  of  our  Saviour  sank 
under  it,  and  his  guards  obliged  a  traveller  whom 
they  met  to  aid  in  sustaining  it.  With  all  this  im 
mediate  bodily  suffering  was  united  the  peculiarly 
disgraceful  nature  of  the  punishment.  The  cross 
is  to  us  a  hallowed  emblem ;  but  when  our  Sav 
iour  endured  its  weight  and  its  tortures,  the  cross 
was  known  but  as  the  most  disgraceful  and  most 
painful  means  of  inflicting  the  punishment  of 


100 


OUR    SAVIOUR. 


death.  It  was  reserved  for  the  vilest  of  malefac 
tors,  and  for  slaves.  Such  was  the  death  to  which 
the  holy  Son  of  God  submitted.  Such  was  the 
fate  he  had  in  view,  when,  steadfastly  banishing 
every  weaker  thought,  he  exclaimed,  "  Father, 
glorify  thy  name  !  " 

His  was  no  sudden  act  of  self-devotion,  made 
in  a  moment  of  excitement,  when  there  was  not 
time  to  appreciate  the  full  greatness  of  the  suffer 
ings  to  be  endured.  No.  From  the  first,  the 
dark  future  was  placed  before  his  mind.  But  his 
choice  was  deliberately  and  unchangeably  made. 
He  did  not  relax  the  sternness  of  his  denunciations 
against  the  hypocrite,  though,  while  denouncing 
him,  he  well  knew  the  implacable  and  fatal  en 
mity  he  was  exciting  against  himself.  But  his 
reliance  was  on  stronger  principles,  —  the  sense 
of  duty,  the  love  of  mankind,  the  love  of  God. 

And  to  the  pains  of  death,  to  the  tortures  of  an 
ticipation,  another  sting  was  added,  by  the  thought 
to  whose  enmity  his  death  was  owing.  The  feel 
ing  of  patriotism  had  its  place,  with  every  other 
worthy  and  exalted  emotion,  in  our  Saviour's 
breast.  He  loved  his  country,  —  Israel,  the  cho- 
sen  land  and  the  chosen  people  of  God.  He 
loved  Jerusalem,  the  city  of  the  Great  King,  the 
place  where  only,  throughout  the  world,  a  temple 


HIS    ANTICIPATIONS.  101 


rose  and  an  altar  flamed  to  the  worship  of  the 
One  True  God.  He  loved  his  fellow-country 
men  ;  he  would  willingly  have  gathered  them  be 
neath  his'  protection,  and  beneath  the  forgiving 
mercy  and  love  of  his  Father.  He  wept  at  the 
thought  of  their  approaching  calamities.  He  was 
their  brother  according  to  the  flesh.  He  was  the 
lineal  descendant  of  their  ancient  kings,  —  of  Da 
vid  and  Solomon,  whose  reigns  had  been  the  pe 
riod  of  their  highest  political  and  spiritual  glory. 
He  was  the  Messiah  whom  they  had  so  long 
expected,  and  in  whom  they  looked  to  see  that 
ancient  glory  restored.  And  he  had  come  to 
accomplish  the  prophecies,  to  fulfil  the  hopes  of 
his  people,  to  shed  on  Israel  and  on  the  world  the 
blessings  of  a  true  and  pure  religion.  Now  he 
was  to  die  ;  and  who  were  to  be  the  authors  of  his 
death  ?  Those  very  men  whom  he  had  come  to 
bless  and  to  save.  It  was  Israel  that  had  rejected 
her  Saviour.  It  was  Jerusalem  that  clamored  for 
the  crucifixion  of  her  king.  It  was  they  for  whose 
good  he  had  labored  and  prayed,  over  whose  ob 
duracy  he  had  wept,  —  they  whom  he  loved  as 
fellow-countrymen,  as  brethren,  as  the  subjects  of 
that  earthly  sceptre  which  he  might  have  claimed, 
and  of  that  higher  authority  which  belonged  to 
him  as  the  Anointed  Messenger  of  God,  —  it  was 


102 


OUK    SAVIOUR. 


these  to  whom  he  owed  his  death.  The  feeling 
of  this  added  acuteness  to  his  suffering.  He  saw 
their  ingratitude,  their  obstinacy.  He  felt  deeply 
the  pang  inflicted  by  this  return  of  evil  for  the 
good  he  had  bestowed.  But  even  this  conquered 
not  his  love  of  country.  On  the  cross  itself  he 
prayed  for  the  forgiveness  of  his  countrymen,  on 
the  ground  of  ignorance.  "  Father,  forgive  them, 
for  they  know  not  what  they  do."  The  very 
knowledge  how  fearfully  Providence  would  avenge 
his  death,  added  another  pang  to  his  sufferings. 
It  was  with  no  exultation  in  his  tone,  that  he  ex 
claimed,  "  Daughters  of  Jerusalem,  weep  not  for 
me,  but  weep  for  yourselves  and  for  your  chil 
dren."  He  saw,  in  prophetic  anticipation,  the 
scenes  which  were  shortly  to  take  place.  He  saw 
the  vine-covered  hills  and  smiling  plains  of  his 
beloved  Galilee  desolated  with  fire,  and  the  march 
of  invading  armies.  He  beheld  her  flourishing 
and  populous  cities  levelled  with  the  ground,  and 
the  placid  and  beautiful  lake  which  had  been  hon 
ored  by  his  miracles  and  his  instructions  dyed 
with  the  blood  of  thousands  massacred  on  its 
banks.  He  saw  the  royal  and  holy  city,  Jerusa 
lem,  compassed  with  armies,  and  its  own  inhab 
itants,  more  fierce  than  their  invaders,  turning 
their  hands  against  each  other ;  without,  instead 


HIS    ANTICIPATIONS.  103 

of  the  three  crosses  on  Calvary,  thousands,  on 
which  the  exasperated  Roman  executed  his  pris 
oners  ;  within,  the  combined  ravages  of  discord, 
plague,  and  famine,  —  the  mother  herself,  as  we 
are  told,  in  some  instances  sustaining  life  upon  the 
flesh  of  her  own  offspring.  He  saw  the  Temple, 
the  sacred  spot  where  God's  honor  dwelt,  wrapped 
in  flames,  while,  amid  bursting  arches  and  falling 
porticos,  the  battle  still  raged  on  .between  the 
conquering  Roman  and  the  perishing  remnant  of 
Judah.  Thirty-eight  years  after  the  death  of  Je 
sus  these  things  took  place.  They  were  the  con 
sequences  of  a  war,  in  which  the  nation  never 
would  and  never  could  have  engaged,  had  they 
adopted  the  peaceful  religion  of  Jesus  for  their 
guide.  These  were,  then,  in  God's  providence, 
the  awful  consequences  attendant  on  their  rejec 
tion  of  him.  To  these  he  looked  forward  ;  the 
anticipation  of  these  miseries  of  his  country  added 
bitterness  to  the  cup  of  suffering  he  was  compelled 
to  taste.  Even  for  the  guilty  he  could  pray  ;  and 
he  knew  how,  in  a  season  of  such  universal  ca 
lamity,  the  innocent  would  be  involved  with  the 
guilty  in  a  common  doom. 

And  how  must  his  heart  have  sunk  within  him 
as  he  thought  of  what  his  disciples,  his  friends, 
were  to  endure  !  He  left  them,  —  those  who  had 


104 


OUR    SAVIOUR. 


been  the  companions  of  his  labors,  those  who  had 
loved  and  honored  him,  and  over  whom  he  had 
watched  with  answering  love  ;  the  enthusiastic  Pe 
ter,  the  mild  and  affectionate  John,  and  every  oth 
er  member  of  that  small  but  endeared  company, — 
he  left  them,  and  to  what  ?  To  a  course  of  use 
fulness,  indeed,  and  of  glory,  but  a  course  of  suf 
fering  ;  to  the  enmity  alike  of  their  own  country 
men  and  of  the  Gentiles ;  to  temptations  by  which 
their  strength  would  be  painfully  tried,  and  be 
neath  which  he  knew  that  sometimes  and  for  a 
season  it  would  fail.  We  can  imagine  the  mourn- 
fulness  in  his  tone,  as  he  said  to  Peter,  "  Verily 
I  say  unto  thee,  thou  shalt  deny  me  thrice  "  ;  as 
he  said  to  the  disciples,  "  All  ye  shall  be  offended 
because  of  me  this  night."  But  he  foresaw  that 
these  temptations,  these  failures  of  strength,  would 
be  but  transitoiy.  He  trusted,  he  knew  by  the 
intercourse  of  his  spirit  with  that  of  God,  that  from 
every  failure  his  Apostles  would  rise  with  renewed 
vigor.  Still  more  sad,  then,  may  have  been  his 
anticipation  of  the  external  calamities  they  would 
be  called  to  experience.  He  foresaw  the  painful 
journeys  they  must  undertake,  the  contumely,  the 
oppression,  the  tumultuous  assaults,  to  which  they 
must  be  subjected.  He  saw  the  hand  of  Herod 
stretched  out  to  vex  the  Church,  and  James,  the 


HIS    ANTICIPATIONS.  105 

brother  of  John,  falling  a  victim  to  his  fury.  He 
looked  farther  along  the  stream  of  time,  and  saw 
the  death  of  one  glorious  martyr  after  another ; 
the  crucifixion  of  Peter,  the  beheading  of  Paul ; 
the  still  fiercer  rage  which  was  kindled  in  the 
breasts  of  heathen  rulers,  as  they  saw  their  altars 
gradually  deserted,  and  their  subjects  embracing 
the  cause  of  the  Redeemer.  Persecution  after 
persecution  he  foresaw  ;  he  declared  that  it  would 
be  so,  when  he  said,  "  I  came  not  to  send  peace 
on  earth,  but  a  sword."  And  darker  still  than 
the  prospect  of  the  sufferings  his  disciples  would 
endure  must  have  been  that  of  the  crimes  they 
would  commit.  How  much  more  keenly  must 
the  iron  have  entered  into  his  soul,  as  he  saw  his 
own  Church  rent  in  sunder,  and  its  respective  par 
ties  persecuting  one  another  even  to  the  death  ! 
Such  were  the  alternating  causes  of  joy  and  sor 
row,  which  crowded  into  our  Saviour's  breast  as 
he  contemplated  the  effects  of  his  death,  in  the 
progress  of  his  religion  in  the  world. 

He  had  felt  as  a  friend,  he  was  called  to  feel 
also  as  a  son.  That  earliest  friend,  his  mother, 
whose  parental  care  his  blameless  infancy  and  his 
holy  youth  had  repaid  with  a  fulness  of  love  and 
happiness  such  as  never  fell  to  the  lot  of  any  par 
ent  but  her,  —  that  mother,  worthy  of  the  high 


106  OUR    SAVIOUR. 

honor  of  giving  birth  to  the  Redeemer,  he  was  to 
leave,  mourning  and  desolate.  The  thought  of 
her  found  attention  amidst  his  dying  agonies  on 
the  cross  ;  he  commended  her,  in  almost  his  latest 
breath,  to  the  care  of  the  disciple  whom  he  loved, 
and  received  comfort  in  the  knowledge  that  his 
request  would  be  well  complied  with.  "  From  that 
hour  that  disciple  took  her  unto  his  own  home." 

But  the  prospect  before  the  mind  of  our  Saviour 
was  not  altogether  gloomy.  Above  the  dark  pic 
ture  of  the  ruin  of  his  country,  and  the  sufferings 
of  his  friends,  appeared  the  radiant  dawn  of  pure 
religion  upon  the  world.  Our  Lord  knew  the 
greatness  of  the  cause  in  which  he  was  to  die. 
He  knew  that  through  his  death  that  cause  would 
triumph.  His  prophetic  eye  glanced  over  the 
course  of  his  Apostles,  their  trials,  their  exertions, 
their  success.  He  surveyed  in  spirit  the  extension 
of  his  religion  from  city  to  city,  from  land  to  land, 
its  triumph  over  heathenism,  its  establishment 
through  the  world.  We  may  believe,  too,  that  his 
spirit  was  cheered  by  the  assurance  of  that  high 
intercourse  which  he  afterwards  maintained  with 
his  Apostles.  He  foresaw,  it  may  be,  that,  though 
removed  from  them  in  bodily  presence,  it  would 
still  be  granted  him  to  influence  them  by  an  agen 
cy  exerted  upon  their  minds,  and  at  times  to  re- 


HIS   ANTICIPATIONS.  107 

veal  himself,  as  he  did  to  Stephen  and  to  Paul,  by 
miraculous  visions.  •  High  and  rapturous  must 
have  been  the  contemplation  of  his  approaching 
glory  ;  higher  and  more  rapturous  to  his  holy 
mind,  because  with  his  own  was  united  the  glory 
of  his  Father.  Wherever  his  doctrine  should  pre 
vail,  there  he  knew  that  the  God  from  whom  he 
came  would  be  worshipped  in  spirit  and  in  truth. 
With  what  emotions,  then,  of  filial  joy  in  the  ad 
vancement  of  his  Father's  honor,  with  what  be 
nevolent  exultation  in  the  good  of  mankind,  must 
he  have  looked  forward  to  the  time  when  the  pure 
and  blessed  religion  introduced  by  him  should  be 
extended  through  the  earth,  —  when  the  throne 
of  the  All-Holy  should  be  established  in  every 
heart! 

For  whom  did  Jesus  die  ?  For  mankind.  For 
those  whom  he  had  not  seen.  For  the  unworthy, 
as  well  as  for  the  virtuous.  For  us.  Yes  ;  we 
are  of  the  number  of  those  for  whom  that  pre 
cious  blood  was  shed.  We  are  among  those  over 
whom  his  prophetic  vision  passed,  as  among  the 
thousands  of  millions  who  should  receive  through 
him  the  glad  tidings  of  salvation.  To  us,  then, 
comes  the  call  of  gratitude  for  what  he  suffered. 
"  Greater  love  hath  no  man  than  this,  that  a  man 
lay  down  his  life  for  his  friends." 


CHRIST  IN  GETHSEMANE. 


OUR  Saviour  possessed  human  nature  in  its  per 
fection.  Every  faculty,  every  perception,  was 
perfect ;  and,  not  less  than  others,  those  percep 
tions  which  recognize  the  presence  of  painful  and 
terrifying  objects.  It  was  in  the  garden  of  Geth- 
semane  that  this  portion  of  his  mental  constitution 
was  called  to  its  most  agonizing  trial.  He  felt 
there  as  man  must  ever  feel  when,  in  the  stillness 
of  midnight  and  solitude,  in  communion  only  with 
God  and  his  own  heart,  he  meditates  on  the  ap 
proach  of  a  painful  and  seemingly  disgraceful 
death.  Many  have  thought  the  emotion  which 
the  Saviour  now  exhibited  too  great  to  be  ac 
counted  for  from  this  cause  alone.  They  have 
supposed  that,  at  this  awful  hour,  he  endured  some 
terrors  connected  more  mysteriously  with  the 
high  objects  of  his  mission ;  —  that  it  was  now 
that  he  felt  the  burden  of  that  vast  sum  of  hu- 


IN    GETHSEMANE.  109 

man  transgression,  for  which  his  death  was  to 
make  atonement  before  God  ;  —  that  the  terrors 
of  the  powers  of  hell  were  around  him,  and  awful 
suggestions  harassing  his  soul,  while  the  favoring 
countenance  of  God  no  longer  beamed  upon  him, 
but  instead  thereof  he  saw  himself  the  object,  for 
a  season,  of  the  Divine  displeasure,  which  was 
transferred  to  him  from  the  human  race.  We 
cannot  admit  the  correctness  of  these  views  in 
their  full  latitude,  while,  instead  of  fiends  torment 
ing  him,  we  read  that  there  appeared  unto  him  an 
angel  strengthening  him,  and  while  we  feel  that, 
instead  of  then  experiencing  the  Divine  displeas 
ure,  the  holy  Jesus  can  at  no  period  of  his  course 
have  received  more  fully  the  approbation  of  the 
Most  High  than  he  did  amid  the  agony,  the  hu 
miliation,  the  self-sacrifice,  of  that  moment.  And 
yet  it  may  well  be  believed  that  the  thought 
which  came  upon  him,  of  the  immense  impor 
tance  of  that  self-offering  which  he  was  then  pre 
senting,  had  something  in  it  calculated  to  over 
whelm  the  soul.  He  felt  that  on  his  endurance 
depended  consequences  not  to  be  limited  by  the 
lapse  of  ages.  The  human  race,  for  countless 
unborn  generations,  were  to  be  sharers  in  the  joy 
that  he  should  communicate  ;  —  and  what  if,  in  the 

last  awful  hour,  his  strength  were  to  fail,  and  the 
10 


110  OUR    SAVIOUR. 


perfect  example  of  patient  suffering  were  to  be 
sullied  by  a  single  blot  ?  Is  it  too  much  to  im 
agine  that  he,  who  all  admit  was  perfect  man,  — 
he  who  "  was  tempted  in  all  points  as  we  are,"  — 
felt  this  supposition  pass  through  his  mind,  and 
shrunk  and  trembled  under  his  great  responsible- 
ness,  as  he  thought  of  the  possibility  that  he 
might  not  sustain  it  ?  Does  it  not  seem  as  if 
some  mental  struggle  of  this  kind  was  indicated 
in  the  words  he  used  to  his  disciples  ?  —  "  Pray 
that  ye  enter  not  into  temptation  ;  the  spirit  truly 
is  willing,  but  the  flesh  is  weak."  Did  he  mean 
to  suggest  to  them  a  warning,  from  the  fearful 
nature  of  that  trial,  which  even  he  had  scarcely 
been  able  to  bear  ? 

But  whatever  we  may  fancy,  who  shall  pretend 
to  fathom  thoroughly  the  feelings  which  passed 
through  that  pure  and  glorious  soul  in  its  hour  of 
deepest  affliction  ?  Their  result  was  expressed 
in  the  prayer,  "  Father,  if  thou  be  willing,  let 
this  cup  pass  from  me  ;  nevertheless,  not  my  will, 
but  thine,  be  done."  The  first  sentence  of  that 
prayer  was  the  expression  of  those  natural  feel 
ings  which  have  been  commented  on.  We  may 
view  it  as  something  more  ;  as  a  last  solemn  act  of 
humility,  in  laying  down  before  the  throne  of  his 
Father  his  mediatorial  crown,  divesting  himself  of 


IN    GETHSEMANE.  Ill 


the  high  office  of  Redeemer  of  the  world,  so  far 
as  he  might  consistently  with  duty,  that  he  might 
assume  it  again,  not  of  his  own  will,  but  of  the 
will  of  his  Father,  —  not  depending  on  his  own 
strength,  but  on  the  strength  of  his  Father.  If 
we  may  venture  to  express  the  sentiments  of  that 
prayer  more  at  large,  thus  might  we  interpret  it. 
"  Father,  thou  hast  committed  to  me  a  task  of 
fearful  magnitude  ;  I  have  assumed  it  in  obedience 
to  thy  will ;  and  now  I  stand  about  to  enter  on 
that  scene  of  insult  and  suffering,  before  which 
my  soul  sinks  in  utter  dismay.  How  shall  I  en 
dure  that  which  is  before  me  ?  How  shall  I  pass 
through  this  more  than  fiery  trial,  without  obscur 
ing,  by  any  deficiency,  the  brightness  of  that  ex 
ample  which  thy  chosen  one  must  leave  to  his 
disciples  through  all  ages  to  come  ?  O  Father, 
the  spirit  is  willing  to  obey  thee,  but  the  flesh,  the 
love  of  life,  and  every  feeling  which  thou  hast  im 
pressed  on  this  human  nature,  — these  shrink  from 
that  awful  duty  ;  and  I  shrink,  too,  from  that  worse 
fear,  that  I  may  possibly  fail  in  its  full  discharge. 
Father  !  if  it  be  thy  will,  I  would  lay  down  before 
thee  the  office  thou  hast  given.  But  thy  will,  not 
mine,  be  done." 

"  Nevertheless,  not  as  I  will,  but  as  thou  wilt." 
Here  was  at  length  the  triumph  of  faith,  and  love 


-n 


112  OUR    SAVIOUR. 


to  God  and  man,  and  glorious  self-devotion,  over 
every  doubt  and  every  fear.  This  language 
was  not  a  mere  profession,  without  corresponding 
meaning.  It  was  not  a  form  of  words,  adopted 
from  distant  antiquity,  or  even  from  any  single 
previous  example,  to  express  a  resignation  which 
was  not  felt.  It  conveyed  the  sincere  and  entire 
submission  of  his  own  will  to  the  will  of  God. 
And  in  that  submission  the  Saviour  found  a  re 
newal  of  strength  and  peace.  The  worst  strug 
gle  was  now  ove?,  —  the  bitterness  of  death  was 
in  a  great  measure  past ;  the  patient  Son  of  God 
was  prepared  to  endure,  in  the  strength  of  his 
Father,  what  was  yet  to  be  laid  upon  him  of  suf 
fering,  abuse,  and  death. 


THE  ARREST,  TRIAL,  AND  CRUCIFIXION. 


THE  narrative  of  the  sufferings  of  Jesus  has 
been  a  thousand  times  repeated,  but  it  has  not 
lost,  and  can  never  lose,  its  interest  to  his  follow 
ers.  Let  us  trace,  step  by  step,  the  successive  in 
cidents  of  those  affecting  scenes. 

From  the  agonizing  struggle,  and  the  prayer 
of  self-renunciation,  our  Lord  returned  to  his 
disciples,  whom  he  had  left  to  await  him  at  a 
short  distance.  He  found  them,  we  are  told, 
"  sleeping  for  sorrow."  Had  they  been  aware, 
like  him,  of  the  immediate  approach  of  danger, 
excitement  would  have  banished  sleep  ;  but  theirs 
was  only  the  saddened  feeling  produced  by  wit 
nessing  in  him  a  grief,  the  cause  of  which  they 
could  but  imperfectly  understand,  and  this  feeling 
rather  aided  than  resisted  the  influence  of  fatigue 
and  darkness.  He  aroused  them,  saying  that  the 

hour  of  his  betrayal  had  come.     His  words  were 
10* 


— M 

114  OUR    SAVIOUR. 

fulfilled  while  yet  upon  his  lips.  A  multitude 
approached,  led  by  Judas,  who  knew  the  place  to 
which  his  Master  was  accustomed  to  resort.  The 
traitor  designates  his  Lord  by  a  kiss,  the  abused 
mark  of  love  and  confidence ;  and  the  Saviour 
himself  comes  forward  and  declares  that  he  is  the 
man  they  seek.  The  soldiers,  though  awed  at 
first  by  the  calm  majesty  of  his  demeanour,  make 
him  their  prisoner.  Peter  attempts  a  vain  resist 
ance,  but  the  Saviour  forbids  it,  and  performs,  even 
in  that  moment,  a  miracle  of  mercy,  healing  the 
wound  which  his  ardent  disciple  had  made.  He 
desires  of  his  captors,  in  surrendering  himself, 
that  those  with  him  should  not  be  detainer1  Self- 
collected  at  that  trying  moment,  he  remembers 
and  fulfils  every  duty.  He  notices,  too,  with  deep 
feeling,  those  circumstances  of  his  capture  which 
were  most  revolting,  —  the  treacherous  kiss,  and 
the  arrest  by  an  armed  multitude  at  night,  when 
ample  opportunity  had  been  given  for  the  sum 
mons  of  a  legal  officer.  "  Judas,  betrayest  thou 
the  Son  of  Man  with  a  kiss  ?  "  "  Be  ye  come 
out  against  a  thief,  with  swords  and  staves  ? 
When  I  was  daily  with  you  in  the  temple,  ye 
stretched  forth  no  hands  against  me  ;  but  this  is 
your  hour,  and  the  power  of  darkness." 

He  was  taken  first,  probably  by  previous  orders 


THE  TRIAL.  115 


from  Caiaphas,  to  the  house  of  Annas,  the  father- 
in-law  and  predecessor  of  the  high-priest.  An 
nas,  it  is  conjectured,  could  not,  on  account  of 
age,  be  present  with  those  assembled  in  the  house 
of  Caiaphas  ;  and  the  sanction  of  his  authority 
was  desired  for  the  course  which  they  intended  to 
pursue.  However  this  may  have  been,  the  aged 
magistrate  appears  to  have  at  once  referred  the 
case  to  his  son-in-law,  Caiaphas,  the  actual  pos 
sessor  of  the  high  priesthood ;  and  to  his  house 
Jesus  was  next  conducted. 

Here  he  was  examined,  though  apparently  in 
an  irregular  manner,  the  formal  meeting  of  the 
Sanhedrim  not  taking  place  till  the  morning.  In 
the  mean  time,  however,  witnesses  were  sought  and 
heard  against  him,  and  he  was  subjected  to  insult 
and  abuse.  It  was  during  this  interval,  too,  that 
his  ear  caught,  from  the  outer  room,  the  excited 
tones  of  a  well-known  voice,  the  voice  of  the  most 
ardent  of  his  friends,  denying  with  oaths  that  he 
knew  him.  This  he  had  himself  foretold,  yet  the 
fulfilment  added  bitterness  to  the  cup  of  misery. 

In  the  morning  the  council  assembled  and 
passed  their  sentence  ;  but  the  power  was  not 
theirs  to  carry  it  into  effect.  That  power  resided 
with  the  Roman  governor,  and  to  him  the  prisoner 
was  now  led. 


-•II 

116  OUR    SAVIOUR. 

Brought  before  Pilate,  the  Saviour  is  questioned 
upon  the  charge  made  against  him,  of  aspiring  to 
the  name  and  authority  of  a  king.  He  asserts,  in 
reply,  his  claim  to  that  title,  but  qualifies  the  dec 
laration  with  the  words,  "  My  kingdom  is  not  of 
this  world."  "  To  this  end  was  I  born,  and  for 
this  cause  came  I  into  the  world,  that  I  should 
bear  witness  unto  the  truth."  "  What  is  truth  ?  " 
exclaims  the  governor,  apparently  with  contemp 
tuous  indifference.  '  But  he  appears  to  have  been 
satisfied,  by  the  answers  of  Jesus,  that  he  was 
neither  a  guilty  nor  a  dangerous  person.  The 
Jews,  however,  are  clamorous  for  his  death,  and 
Pilate  avails  himself  of  the  suggestion  that  the 
prisoner  belonged  to  Galilee,  to  refer  the  case  to 
Herod,  prince  of  that  province,  then  on  a  visit  to 
Jerusalem.  By  Herod  he  is  sent  back  to  Pilate, 
arrayed  in  a  purple  robe,  in  mockery  of  his  sup 
posed  pretensions  to  royalty.  The  better  feelings 
of  the  governor  struggle  long  against  his  timid  and 
unprincipled  policy,  and  that  very  struggle  does 
but  increase  the  torture  of  the  Divine  sufferer, 
who  is  scourged  and  crowned  with  thorns,  that  the 
compassion  of  the  people  may  be  excited  in  his 
favor.  At  length  Pilate  yields,  and  the  Saviour  is 
led  forth,  bearing  his  cross.  As  he  passes  along, 
nearly  fainting  under  his  dreadful  burden,  a 


THE    CRUCIFIXION.  117 

traveller  (we  may  imagine)  stops  and  regards  the 
victim  with  an  eye  of  pity,  or  utters  some  excla 
mation  that  betrays  his  feelings.  He  is  seized 
by  the  soldiers,  and  compelled  to  aid  in  bearing 
the  cross. 

They  move  on.  But  now  the  company  who 
trod  that  which  should  for  ever  after  be  called  the 
Dolorous  Way,  was  swelled  by  the  accession  of 
the  friends  of  Jesus,  and  the  women  who,  to  the 
lasting  glory  of  their  sex,  had  thus  far  honored 
and  now  bewailed  him.  To  these  he  addresses 
a  few  words,  of  awfully  prophetic  import,  referring, 
but  not  vindictively,  to  the  miseries  that  were  to 
come  upon  his  country  from  those  Romans  by 
whose  hands  he  was  now  to  die.  On  reaching 
Calvary,  "  they  gave  him  vinegar  to  drink,  min 
gled  with  gall."  This  was  a  stupefying  draught, 
provided  by  the  rude  mercy  of  the  age,  to  dimin 
ish  the  pangs  of  that  fearful  mode  of  execution. 
But  "  when  he  had  tasted  thereof,  he  would  not 
drink."  No  cloud  must  be  upon  his  faculties,  to 
obscure  the  vision  of  the  opening  heaven,  and 
dim  the  brightness  of  his  dying  example. 

His  first  words  when  on  the  cross,  and  in  the 
recent  agony  of  his  wounds,  were,  "  Father  !  for 
give  them;  for  they  know  not  what  they  do." 
Is  it  too  much  to  say  that  these  are  the  most 


118  OUR    SAVIOUR. 


sublime  words  ever  uttered  by  man  ?  Jesus  had 
taught  the  lesson,  "  Love  your  enemies,"  and  men 
had  marvelled,  as  they  marvel  now,  that  he  should 
deliver  a  precept  so  impossible  to  observe.  He 
now  showed  that  the  glorious  soul  that  could  con 
ceive  the  law  was  capable  also  of  its  fulfilment. 

Again  he  speaks  ;  and  they  are  words  of  com 
fort  to  the  penitent  offender  at  his  side. 

Again ;  and  it  is  with  the  care  of  a  son  for  the 
mother  who  never  till  now  had  known  the  mean 
ing  of  those  words,  "  Yea,  a  sword  shall  pierce 
through  thine  own  soul  also."  Mary !  "  highly 
favored  among  women!" — were  the  angelic 
announcement,  the  early  signs  and  wonders,  the 
sinless  childhold,  the  holy  youth,  the  divine  matu 
rity,  all  to  end  in  this  ?  Retain  thy  faith,  mother 
of  the  Saviour !  He  remembers  thee  in  this  hour 
of  his  own  agony  and  thine  ;  think  not,  then,  that 
he  can  be  abandoned  by  his  God  and  Father ! 

And  yet  what  means  that  startling  cry  ?  "  My 
God,  my  God,  why  hast  thou  forsaken  me  ?  " 
Fear  not ;  those  words  from  his  lips  no  more  im 
ply  distrust,  than  they  did  in  the  earnest  pleading 
of  that  psalm  which  the  sufferer  now  applies  to 
his  own  condition. 

The  agony  of  the  cross  produces  its  usual 
effect,  excessive  thirst ;  and  Jesus,  who  had  never 


THE    CRUCIFIXION.  119 

taught,  like  the  Stoics,  that  there  was  virtue  in 
an  affected  insensibility  to  pain,  expresses  that 
feeling.  It  is  relieved  by  tasting,  not  of  the 
drugged  beverage  offered  him  before,  but  of  vine 
gar  alone. 

"  When  Jesus  therefore  had  received  the  vine 
gar,  he  said,  It  is  finished ;  and  he  bowed  his 
head,  and  gave  up  the  ghost." 


-Ji 


PART    III. 
THE  COMMUNICANT 


11 


PART    III. 
THE   COMMUNICANT. 

SELF-EXAMINATION. 

I  AM  now  about  to  unite  with  my  fellow-disci 
ples  in  the  act  of  commemorating  our  Redeemer. 
Let  me  consider  the  meaning  of  what  I  do,  and, 
as  the  Apostle  has  directed,  "  examine  myself," 
before  I  "  eat  of  that  bread  and  drink  of  that 
cup." 

It  is  an  ordinance  of  profession.  Has  my  con 
duct  been  worthy  of  the  religion  I  profess  ?  Fa 
ther,  who  knowest  my  sins,  grant  that  I  may  see 
them  in  their  true  light,  may  turn  from  them,  and 
hereafter  walk  more  worthily  before  thee  ! ' 

It  is  an  ordinance  of  commemoration.  Have  I 
kept  in  memory  my  Saviour's  law,  and  the  ex 
ample  by  which  it  was  illustrated  ?  Has  the  light 
of  his  character  been  reflected  from  mine  ? 


124  THE    COMMUNICANT. 

It  is  an  ordinance  of  love  to  him.  It  reminds 
me  of  his  love  to  mankind,  displayed  in  his  death. 
How  shall  I  best  manifest  my  own  in  return  ? 
He  hath  said,  "  If  ye  love  me,  keep  my  command 
ments." 

It  is  a  communion,  a  feast  of  brotherly  love. 
"  By  this  shall  all  men  know  that  ye  are  my  dis 
ciples,  if  ye  have  love  one  to  another."  Have  I 
exhibited,  not  to  man  alone,  but  to  God,  this  mark 
of  a  true  discipleship  ? 

It  is  an  occasion  for  grateful  feeling  to  that  God 
who  sent  Jesus  on  earth.  Is  my  gratitude  mani 
fested  by  my  life  ?  Have  I  "  ceased  to  do  evil "  ? 
Do  I  "  learn  to  do  well "  ? 

Let  me  take  for  my  guidance,  in  self-examina 
tion,  the  Ten  Commandments  of  God's  ancient 
law,  applying  them,  as  extended  and  illustrated 
by  the  Gospel,  to  my  own  conduct  and  spiritual 
condition. 

I.  Have  I  any  "  other  gods  "  before  Jehovah  ? 
Is  there  any  object  to  whose  service  I  have  bound 
myself  more  than  to  his  ?  Is  eagerness  for  wealth 
or  distinction  leading  me  away  from  duty  ?  Have 
I  been  led  into  idolatry  by  the  warmth  of  my  af 
fections,  or  do  I  hold  even  my  dearest  treasures 
in  humility,  as  subject  to  His  will  who  gave  them, 
and  can  resume  ? 


8 

SELF-EXAMINATION.  125 


II.  Do  I  serve  God  after  the  right  manner,  or 
as  they  of  old  time  worshipped  him  by  unworthy 
emblems,  do  I  render  to  him  such  tribute  as  can 
not  be  pleasing  in  his  sight  ?     Does  the  feeling  of 
sectarian  bitterness  mingle  with  my  zeal  for  truth, 
or  is  my  worship  tainted  with  formalism,  hypocri 
sy,  or  superstition  ? 

III.  Have  I  guarded  my  lips  against  irreverence 
of  expression  ?     Do  I  suppress,  as  it  rises  in  my 
thoughts,   the   misapplication   of    Scripture,   and 
every   word    that    may   diminish  the   regard    of 
others,  or  my  own,  for  sacred  things  ?     Am  I 
faithful,  in  letter  and  in  spirit,  to  every  vow  that 
I  have  taken,  every  obligation  that  I  have  assumed 
in  the  sight  of  God  ?  • 

IV.  Do  I  keep  holy  the  Lord's  day,  not  only 
by  refraining  from  common  labor,  but  by  endeav 
ouring  to  derive,  for  myself  and  others,  due  relig 
ious  improvement  from  its  blessed  privileges  ? 

V.  Do  I  discharge  to  those  of  my  own  family 
the  obligations  which  I  owe  to  them,  not  "  grudg 
ingly,  as  of  necessity,"  but  from  the  fulness  of 
the  heart?     In  the  relations  I  sustain  as  son  or 
daughter,  brother  or  sister,  husband  or  wife,  fa 
ther  or  mother,  and  in  whatever  other  position  I 
may  be  placed,  how  does  conscience  bear  witness 

to  my  faithfulness  ? 
11* 


126  THE    COMMUNICANT. 

VT.  Have  I  sought  to  do  injury,  or  wished  evil, 
to  any  ?  Have  I  encouraged  quarrels,  or  striven 
to  appease  them  ?  Has  my  influence  been,  as  far 
as  I  could  exert  any,  on  the  side  of  peace  and  of 
the  welfare  of  mankind  ? 

VII.  Have  I  been  pure,  not  only  in  outward 
deed,  but  in  word  and  thought  ?     Do  I  exercise  a 
rigid  self-control,  and  refuse  to  indulge  unduly 
any  appetite  or  passion  ? 

VIII.  Do  I  sacredly  respect  the  rights  of  others  ? 
Is  my  hand  pure  from  all  dishonest  gains  ?     Do  I 
render  unto  all  their  dues,  not  only  as  required  by 
law,  but  by  the  strictest  judgment  of  conscience  ? 

IX.  Am  I  careful  to  guard  against  the  sin  of 
slander?     Do   I   avoid   the  repetition  of  reports 
that  are  unfavorable  to  others,  and  discourage  the 
propensity  to  circulate  such  reports  where  I  per 
ceive  it  in  those  around  me  ?     Do  I  ever,  for  con 
venience,  or  from  a  love  of  exaggeration,  deviate 
from  the  plain  rule  of  truth  ? 

X.  Am  I  contented  with  the  blessings  God  has 
given,  or   is   mine  a  restless,  repining,  envious 
spirit?      Can  I  bear  to  see  myself  excelled  by 
others  ?     Do  I  covet  my  neighbour's  goods,  or  see 
with  pleasure  the  enjoyments  which  others  receive 
from  the  Benefactor  of  all  ? 

To  these  questions,  derived  from  the  ancient 

n 


SELF-EXAMINATION.  127 

Law,  let  me  add  the  thoughts  suggested  by  the 
more  comprehensive  summary  of  the  Saviour. 
Matthew  xxii.  37-40. 

Is  it  my  earnest  wish  to  love  the  Lord  my  God 
with  all  my  heart,  and  with  all  my  soul,  and 
with  all  my  mind  ?  Have  I  attained  to  any  ade 
quate  degree  of  this  holy  feeling?  How  may  I 
advance  therein  ? 

Do  I  love  my  neighbour  as  myself  ?  Does  the 
desire  of  doing  good  to  others  spring  up  within 
me  as  an  ever-flowing  fountain  ?  Does  my  life, 
in  all  the  relations  I  sustain,  as  a  member  of  a 
family,  as  a  citizen,  as  a  man,  bear  witness  to  the 
existence  of  this  principle  within  ? 

Do  I  observe  the  golden  rule,  doing  unto  others 
as  I  would  that  they  should  do  unto  me  ? 

On  these  questions  let  me  pause,  and  bring  to 
memory  my  past  conduct,  especially  of  late. 
Then,  having  discerned  wherein  I  am  most  defi 
cient,  let  me  address  to  my  Heavenly  Father  a 
prayer  of  penitence. 


PRAYER  AFTER   SELF-EXAMINATION. 


O  THOU  who  art  of  purer  sight  than  to  behold 
iniquity  !  how  shall  I  come  before  thee,  conscious 
as  I  am  of  many  departures  from  thy  law  ?  As 
I  survey  my  own  past  conduct,  and  compare  it 
with  the  requirements  of  thy  Divine  commands, 
I  feel  that  I  have  indeed  come  short  of  that  obe 
dience  which  it  was  my  duty  to  render.  I  have 
yielded  to  unworthy  motives  ;  I  have  neglected 
duty ;  I  have  walked  in  forbidden  paths.  O  God  ! 
grant  me  to  feel,  still  more,  my  own  unworthiness. 
Yet,  O  Thou  whose  property  it  is  always  to  have 
mercy  !  grant,  I  pray  thee,  thy  Divine  forgiveness. 
I  repent  of  my  sins,  and  resolve  to  use  my  best 
endeavours  to  avoid  them  in  future.  May  my  re 
pentance  be  accepted  before  thee,  for  I  desire  to 
present  it  in  all  lowliness  and  sincerity  of  heart. 
Do  thou,  O  God !  by  the  aid  of  thy  holy  spirit, 
render  it  more  worthy  of  thine  own  acceptance. 


PRAYER   AFTER    SELF-EXAMINATION.         129 

May  it  be  deep  and  permanent.  May  I  be  aided 
by  thee,  in  the  efforts  on  which  I  now  resolve,  to 
amend  my  outward  conduct,  to  keep  a  guard  over 
my  lips,  to  restrain  even  my  thoughts  from  evil. 
For  my  past  offences,  what  satisfaction  can  I 
bring  ?  I  can  but  implore,  in  deep  humility,  thy 
forgiveness,  and  plead  the  promises  of  thy  love, 
declared  by  Jesus  Christ  our  Saviour.  In  the  holy 
name  of  him  who  lived  and  died  for  man,  I  pre 
sent  my  prayer  unto  thee,  O  Father !  ascribing  to 
thee  infinite  power,  wisdom,  love,  and  mercy. 
Amen. 


PKAYER  BEFORE   COMMUNION. 


O  GOD,  our  Heavenly  Father!  thou  didst,  in 
infinite  love,  send  thy  well-beloved  Son,  Jesus 
Christ,  our  Lord,  to  lead  mankind  back  from  the 
mazes  of  sin,  to  the  knowledge  and  love  of  thee, 
and  the  peace  that  is  found  in  obedience.  I  thank 
thee  for  the  precious  blessings  conferred  through 
him.  I  thank  thee  for  thy  mercy  to  a  world  that 
lay  in  darkness  and  in  sin.  With  deeper  emo 
tions,  O  God,  do  I  bless  thee  for  thy  mercy  dis 
played  toward  myself  individually.  Thanks  to 
thee,  O  Father !  that  I  have  had  my  birth  and 
education  in  a  Christian  land ;  thanks  for  the  in 
structions  with  which  I  have  been  favored,  whether 
in  early  youth  or  in  riper  years,  that  have  con 
tributed  to  keep  me  from  sin,  and  to  lead  me  in 
the  way  in  which  I  ought  to  tread.  Thanks  to 
thee  for  the  means  of  grace  afforded  me,  in  the 
privileges  of  public  worship,  and  in  the  ordinances 


PRAYER  BEFORE  COMMUNION.       131 

of  the  Gospel.  With  shame  do  I  confess  that  my 
conduct  has  not  been  conformable,  in  all  respects, 
to  the  advantages  I  have  enjoyed.  It  is  not  of 
my  own  merit,  but  of  thy  mercy,  that  I  am  per 
mitted  to  draw  nigh  to  thee,  and  encouraged  to 
share  in  the  memorials  of  my  Saviour's  dying 
love.  O  God !  may  it  be  with  deep  humility  that 
I  unite  with  my  fellow-believers  in  this  affecting 
ordinance.  May  no  feeling  of  spiritual  pride 
arise  within  me,  but  rather  may  I  realize  that  new 
and  increased  effort  is  needed,  that  I  may  hold 
my  profession  unstained  and  be  steadfast  unto  the 
end.  And  for  those  with  whom  I  unite,  I  pray 
as  for  myself.  Aid  us,  O  God !  to  contemplate 
with  heartfelt  gratitude  the  self-sacrificing  love 
of  our  holy  Redeemer.  Aid  us  to  meditate  upon 
the  perfections  of  his  character,  and  to  derive 
thence  light  to  discern,  and  strength  to  pursue, 
our  own  path  of  duty.  And  unto  thee,  O  God ! 
as  an  humble  disciple  of  that  blessed  Saviour,  do 
I  ascribe  the  kingdom,  the  power,  and  the  glory, 
for  ever.  Amen. 


PRAYER    BEFORE    COMMUNION,  IN 
PROSPERITY. 


O  GOD,  Bestower  of  every  blessing  !  I  give 
thanks  to  thee  for  the  love  that  has  crowned  my 
days.  Thy  mercies  are  more  than  I  can  number. 
Let  my  heart  with  gratitude  acknowledge  them  ; 
let  my  life  show  forth  that  this  gratitude  is  sincere. 
And  now,  O  Father,  as  I  am  about  to  "  take  the 
cup  of  salvation,  and  call  upon  the  name  of  the 
Lord,"  —  to  "pay  my  vows  unto  thee,  in  the 
presence  of  thy  people," —  grant  that  I  may  bring 
to  the  hallowed  ordinance  those  thoughts  and  feel 
ings  that  are  appropriate.  Keep  far  from  me 
that  pride  which  would  ascribe  to  myself  the 
blessings  I  enjoy.  I  have  nothing  but  what  I 
have  received  from  thee ;  whether  health,  or 
friends,  or  possessions,  all  are  thine.  May  I  feel 
this  ever,  and  now  especially,  as  I  commemorate 
him  who,  "  though  he  were  rich,  yet  for  our  sakes 


PRAYER  IN  PROSPERITY.  133 

became  poor,  that  we  through  his  poverty  might 
be  rich."  May  I  so  far  as  is  in  my  power  imi 
tate  his  holy  example,  using  the  means  thou  hast 
bestowed  upon  me,  not  for  my  own  good  only, 
but  as  thy  steward,  for  the  good  of  those  around 
me.  Keep  me,  0  Lord,  safe  from  the  trials  which 
beset  a  prosperous  condition ;  from  pride  and  van 
ity,  from  the  love  of  selfish  indulgence,  from  neg 
lect  of  the  claims  of  my  fellow-beings,  from  in 
difference  to  their  sufferings,  from  forgetfulness  of 
thyself,  and  disregard  of  thy  holy  law.  And 
thine  for  ever,  O  God,  be  praise  and  glory  in  the 
highest,  in  the  name  of  Jesus  Christ,  our  Lord. 
Amen. 


12 


PRAYER  BEFORE   COMMUNION,  IN 
ADVERSITY. 


THOU  givest,  O  God !  life  and  all  life's  bless 
ings;  and  when  thou  dost  resume  them,  still 
blessed  be  thy  holy  name  for  ever !  I  come,  O 
Father !  bowed  low  by  affliction,  to  discharge  my 
duty,  and  seek  for  comfort  and  strength,  in  com 
memorating  him  who  tasted  the  cup  of  sorrow  for 
my  sake.  O,  grant  me  grace  to  contemplate 
aright  the  perfections  of  his  character;  to  feel 
that,  if  he  so  meekly  and  patiently  endured,  it  be 
comes  me,  as  his  disciple,  to  bear  thy  holy  will 
without  a  murmur.  May  I  be  encouraged  by  the 
thought,  that,  as  thy  Divine  purposes  for  man's 
redemption  were  wrought  out  by  the  sufferings  of 
Jesus,  so  every  burden  that  we  are  called  to  bear 
will  become,  if  patiently  endured,  the  means  for 
the  accomplishment  of  some  wise  and  gracious 
design.  Send  me,  O  Lord  !  if  it  seem  fit  to  thee, 


23 

PRAYER   IN   ADVERSITY.  135 

relief  from  the  trial  under  which  I  am  placed. 
But  more  fervently  would  I  pray  thee,  increase 
my  faith  and  my  patience  to  bear  it.  I  bless  thee 
for  whatever  circumstances  of  relief  or  comfort 
thou  hast  afforded,  and  for  the  many  mercies  to 
which  the  course  of  my  life  bears  witness.  En 
able  me  more  fully  to  realize  thy  goodness,  in  the 
past  and  in  the  present.  Suffer  not  my  strength 
to  fail,  O  God !  but  may  I  sustain  my  trials  and 
discharge  my  duties  as  befits  an  humble  disciple 
of  the  blessed  Jesus.  And  to  thee,  in  his  holy 
name,  be  praises  for  evermore.  Amen. 


PRAYER  BEFORE   COMMUNION,  WHEN  PRI 
VATELY  ADMINISTERED  IN  SICKNESS. 


O  THOU  in  whose  hands  our  life  and  breath 
are !  I  bless  thee  that  before  I  am  called  hence, 
to  be  no  more  seen  on  earth,  thou  dost  permit  me 
to  commemorate  my  Saviour  in  the  way  of  his 
appointment.  Thine  hand  is  upon  me,  and  I 
cannot  go  with  the  multitude  of  them  that  keep 
holy  day,  to  meet  my  Redeemer  and  my  God  in 
the  house  of  prayer.  But  thou  preparest  for 
me,  here  in  privacy,  the  table  of  thine  outward 
ordinance.  O,  nourish  my  longing  spirit  with 
heavenly  food.  As  in  these  emblems  I  behold 
the  death  of  my  Saviour,  let  me  derive  from  the 
contemplation  strength  for  the  scene  that  perhaps 
ere  long  awaits  myself.  May  his  meek  endur 
ance  be  reflected  in  mine.  May  his  constant  faith, 
his  submission  to  thy  holy  will,  his  love  to  thee,  to 
his  disciples  and  friends,  and  to  all  mankind,  pro- 


PRAYER    IN    SICKNESS.  137 

duce  in  me  their  own  resemblance.  If  I  have 
cherished  thus  far  an  unkind  feeling  toward  any, 
enable  me  now,  O  God !  to  banish  it  for  ever  from 
my  breast,  as  I  think  of  him  who  prayed  for  thy 
forgiveness  on  his  murderers.  If  the  pains  of  my 
sickness  are  severe,  let  my  thoughts  rest  on 
those  of  my  Redeemer's  cross ;  and  wilt  thou,  O 
Father !  who  didst  strengthen  him  in  the  sorrows 
of  Gethsemane,  sustain  me  in  the  anticipation  and 
in  the  reality  of  that  which  is  before  me.  Grant, 

0  Lord  !  that  I  may  part  from  life  with  calm  and 
perfect  trust  in  thee.     I  have  sinned ;  forgive  thou 
my  sins  ;  confirm,  perfect,  and  accept  my  peni 
tence.     And  when  death  is  past,  O  Father !  shall 

1  then  —  rapturous  thought !  —  enter  into  the  bliss 
reserved  for  those  who  are  found  faithful  ?     Why 
should  I  fear,  when  this  is  before  me  ?     Fulfil,  0 
my  God  !  the  blessed  anticipation,  and  to  thee,  in 
the  hallowed  name  of  the  Sufferer  on  Calvary,  be 
glory  ascribed,  now,  and  with  my  dying  voice. 
Amen. 


12* 


PASSAGES  OF  SCRIPTURE. 


GOD  so  loved  the  world,  that  he  gave  his  only  be 
gotten  Son,  that  whosoever  believeth  in  him  should 
not  perish,  but  have  everlasting  life.  John  iii.  16. 

Scarcely  for  a  righteous  man  will  one  die  ;  yet 
peradventure  for  a  good  man  some  would  even 
dare  to  die.  But  God  commendeth  his  love  to 
ward  us,  in  that  while  we  were  yet  sinners,  Christ 
died  for  us.  Romans  v.  7,  8. 

For  it  became  him,  for  whom  are  all  things, 
and  by  whom  are  all  things,  in  bringing  many 
sons  unto  glory,  to  make  the  Captain  of  their  sal 
vation  perfect  through  sufferings.  Heb.  ii.  10. 

For  such  an  high-priest  became  us,  who  is  holy, 
harmless,  undefiled,  separate  from  sinners,  and 
made  higher  than  the  heavens.  Heb.  vii.  26. 

Christ  also  suffered  for  us,  leaving  us  an  exam 
ple,  that  ye  should  follow  his  steps  :  who  did  no 
sin,  neither  was  guile  found  in  his  mouth  :  who, 


PASSAGES  OF  SCRIPTURE.         139 

when  he  was  reviled,  reviled  not  again ;  when  he 
suffered,  he  threatened  not ;  but  committed  him 
self  to  him  that  judgeth  righteously  :  who  his  own 
self  bare  our  sins  in  his  own  body  on  the  tree, 
that  we,  being  dead  to  sins,  should  live  unto 
righteousness  :  by  whose  stripes  ye  were  healed. 
1  Peter  ii.  21-24. 

Behold  my  servant,  whom  I  uphold ;  mine 
elect,  in  whom  my  soul  delighteth  ;  I  have  put  my 
spirit  upon  him  :  he  shall  bring  forth  judgment  to 
the  Gentiles.  He  shall  not  cry,  nor  lift  up,  nor 
cause  his  voice  to  be  heard  in  the  street.  A  bruised 
reed  shall  he  not  break,  and  the  smoking  flax  shall 
he  not  quench  :  he  shall  bring  forth  judgment  un 
to  truth.  Isaiah  xlii.  1  -  3  ;  Matt.  xii.  17  -  20. 

Then  spake  Jesus  again  unto  them,  saying,  I 
am  the  light  of  the  world :  he  that  followeth  me 
shall  not  walk  in  darkness,  but  shall  have  the 
light  of  life.  John  viii.  12. 

Come  unto  me,  all  ye  that  labor,  and  are  heavy 
laden,  and  I  will  give  you  rest.  Take  my  yoke 
upon  you,  and  learn  of  me  :  for  I  am  meek  and 
lowly  in  heart :  and  ye  shall  find  rest  unto  your 
souls.  For  my  yoke  is  easy,  and  my  burden  is 
light.  Matt.  xi.  28  -  30. 

Behold  the  Lamb  of  God,  which  taketh  away 
the  sin  of  the  world  !  John  i.  29. 


23 

140  THE    COMMUNICANT. 

I  am  the  good  shepherd  :  the  good  shepherd 
giveth  his  life  for  the  sheep.  John  x.  11. 

Surely  he  hath  borne  our  griefs,  and  carried 
our  sorrows.  He  was  wounded  for  our  transgres 
sions,  he  was  bruised  for  our  iniquities  ;  the  chas 
tisement  of  our  peace  was  upon  him  ;  and  with 
his  stripes  we  are  healed.  All  we  like  sheep  have 
gone  astray;  we  have  turned  every  one  to  his 
own  way ;  and  the  Lord  hath  laid  on  him  the  in 
iquity  of  us  all.  He  was  oppressed,  and  he  was 
afflicted,  yet  he  opened  not  his  mouth  :  he  is 
brought  as  a  lamb  to  the  slaughter,  and  as  a  sheep 
before  her  shearers  is  dumb,  so  he  opened  not 
his  mouth.  Isaiah  liii.  4-7. 

This  is  my  commandment,  that  ye  love  one 
another,  as  I  have  loved  you.  Greater  love 
hath  no  man  than  this,  that  a  man  lay  down 
his  life  for  his  friends.  Ye  are  my  friends,  if 
ye  do  whatsoever  I  command  you.  John  xv. 
12-14. 

Whosoever  shall  do  the  will  of  my  Father 
which  is  in  heaven,  the  same  is  my  brother,  and 
sister,  and  mother.  Matt.  xii.  50. 

Herein  is  love,  not  that  we  loved  God,  but  that 
he  loved  us,  and  sent  his  Son  to  be  the  propitia 
tion  for  our  sins.  Beloved,  if  God  so  loved  us, 
we  ought  also  to  love  one  another.  God  is  love  ; 


PASSAGES  OF  SCRIPTURE.         141 

and  he  that  dwelleth  in  love  dwelleth  in  God,  and 
God  in  him.  1  John  iv.  10,  11,  16. 

Christ  our  passover  is  sacrificed  for  us ;  there 
fore  let  us  keep  the  feast,  not  with  old  leaven, 
neither  with  the  leaven  of  malice  and  wickedness ; 
but  with  the  unleavened  bread  of  sincerity  and 
truth.  1  Cor.  v.  7,  8. 

Friend,  how  earnest  thou  in  hither,  not  having 
a  wedding  garment  ?  Matt.  xxii.  12. 

Why  call  ye  me,  Lord,  Lord,  and  do  not  the 
things  which  I  say  ?  Luke  vi.  46. 

Let  your  light  so  shine  before  men,  that  they 
may  see  your  good  works,  and  glorify  your  Fa 
ther  which  is  in  heaven.  Matt.  v.  16. 

Blessed  are  the  pure  in  heart,  for  they  shall  see 
God.  Blessed  are  the  peace-makers,  for  they 
shall  be  called  the  children  of  God.  Matt.  v.  8,  9. 

He  that  taketh  not  his  cross,  and  followeth  after 
me,  is  not  worthy  of  me.  Matt.  x.  38. 

Now  the  end  of  the  commandment  is  charity, 
out  of  a  pure  heart,  and  of  a  good  conscience, 
and  of  faith  unfeigned.  1  Tim.  i.  5. 

Denying  ungodliness  and  worldly  lusts,  we 
should  live  soberly,  righteously,  and  godly  in  this 
present  world ;  looking  for  that  blessed  hope,  and 
the  glorious  appearing  of  the  great  God  and  our 
Saviour  Jesus  Christ;  who  gave  himself  for  us, 


142  THE    COMMUNICANT. 

that  he  might  redeem  us  from  all  iniquity,  and 
purify  unto  himself  a  peculiar  people,  zealous  of 
good  works.  Titus  ii.  12  -  14. 

Beloved,  now  are  we  the  sons  of  God,  and  it 
doth  not  yet  appear  what  we  shall  be :  but  we 
know  that,  when  he  shall  appear,  we  shall  be  like 
him,  for  \ve  shall  see  him  as  he  is.  1  John  iii.  2. 


PART    IV. 
THE  CHRISTIAN'S  WALK. 


THE   CHRISTIAN'S  WALK 


BEARING  THE   CROSS. 

"  HE  that  taketh  not  his  cross,  and  followeth 
after  me,  is  not  worthy  of  me."  —  Matt.  x.  38. 

It  was  not  without  reason  that  our  Lord  pre 
pared  the  minds  of  his  disciples,  by  such  words  as 
these,  for  the  exercise  of  self-denial,  and  the  en 
durance  of  suffering.  The  fulfilment  of  their 
duty  to  him  and  to  his  cause  required  of  them,  in 
that  age,  no  slight  amount  of  firmness,  no  waver 
ing  faith  nor  lukewarm  zeal.  The  first  require 
ment  was  indifference  to  worldly  property,  and, 
on  the  part  of  the  teachers  of  the  religion,  its 
relinquishment.  This  was  necessary,  in  order  that 
their  minds  might  undividedly  attend  to  the  one 
great  object  to  which  they  were  to  be  devoted. 

The  scorn  and  hatred  of  the  community  at  large, 
13 


146  THE  CHRISTIAN'S  WALK. 

and  especially  of  the  most  respected  and  influen 
tial  class,  they  were  sure  to  incur.  Toil  and 
privation,  the  alienation  of  families  and  friends, 
imprisonments,  scourgings  and  tortures,  were  con 
sequences  neither  remote  nor  improbable,  to  the 
view  of  any  who  should  avow  themselves  disciples 
of  Jesus ;  and  it  was  soon  found,  after  the  great 
Master  himself  had  suffered,  that  they  who  aspired 
to  follow  him  must  prepare  themselves  for  the 
probability  of  being  called  to  glorify  him  by  a 
martyr's  death.  Such  were  the  crosses  which  the 
early  disciples  bore ;  and  he  who  was  not  ready 
to  bear  them  was  declared  unworthy  of  his 
Master. 

Though  times  have  changed,  and  persecution 
has  ceased,  the  Gospel  of  Christ  remains  the 
same.  It  still  requires  the  disciple  to  take  up  his 
Saviour's  cross  and  follow  him.  Our  devotion  to 
his  cause  must  be  as  entire,  if  we  would  be 
counted  worthy  of  our  Lord,  as  was  that  of  those 
who  went  before  us.  If  times  of  persecution 
should  return,  it  cannot  be  questioned  that  our 
duty  would  be  the  same  with  that  of  those  who 
suffered  for  Christ  in  the  age  which  followed  his 
ascension,  —  to  bear,  if  need  should  be,  the  literal 
cross,  or  to  endure  'whatever  tortures  a  Herod  or  a 
Nero  could  devise,  rather  than  forsake  our  Master 


BEARING   THE    CROSS.  147 

or  dishonor  our  faith.  There  is  not  less,  then, 
of  the  spirit  of  faithful  endurance  in  the  heart 
required  now  than  of  old  ;  but  our  more  indulgent 
lot  has  placed  us  where  the  occasions  for  its  ex 
ertion  are  less  terrible.  We  have  still  to  bear 
meekly  and  firmly  whatever  burden  it  may  please 
Providence  to  impose ;  but  Providence  grants  to 
us  lighter  burdens  than  were  endured  by  those  of 
old.  Shall  we  not  thankfully  receive  and  faith 
fully  sustain  them  ? 

We  have,  however,  our  crosses  ;  and  it  is  well 
for  us  that  we  have  them.  Well  did  that  noble- 
hearted  Christian,  William  Penn,  place  the  senti 
ment  as  the  title  to  one  of  his  treatises, "  No  cross, 
no  crown."  It  was  by  endurance  that  the  Saviour 
was  glorified ;  it  is  only  by  endurance,  by  meekly 
sustaining  sorrow,  and  bravely  combating  with 
temptation,  that  we  can  rise  to  the  resemblance 
of  our  Lord,  to  that  perfection  in  holiness  which 
shall  be  the  crown  of  our  everlasting  rejoicing. 

What,  then,  are  our  crosses  ?  What  is  it  that  in 
this  day  the  Christian  must  nerve  himself  to  bear, 
faithfully  and  patiently,  under  the  alternative  of 
being  declared  unworthy  of  his  Master  ?  It  is, 
first,  in  general  terms,  whatever  affliction  or  trial 
Providence  may  send.  Our  sorrows  come  not 
now,  as  in  ancient  times,  except  in  small  propor- 


n 

148 


tion,  as  the  direct  consequence  of  our  profession 
of  Christianity.  But  we  may  still  regard  them  as 
the  cross  we  are  to  bear  for  Christ.  He  came, 
not  only  to  strengthen  the  martyr  to  endure  his 
fiery  trial,  but  to  minister  aid  in  every  form  of 
suffering  that  man  can  know  ;  and  there  are  some 
times  sufferings  in  common,  modern,  and  outward 
ly  peaceful  life,  which  may  well  compare  with 
those  of  martyrdom. 

"  The  writhings  of  a  wounded  heart 
Are  fiercer  than  a  foeman's  dart. 
Oft  in  life's  stillest  shade  reclining, 
In  desolation  unrepining, 
Without  a  hope  on  earth  to  find 
A  mirror  in  an  answering  mind, 
Meek  souls  there  are,  who  little  dream 
Their  daily  strife  an  angel's  theme, 
Or  that  the  rod  they  take  so  calm 
Shall  prove  in  heaven  a  martyr's  palm." 

Keble. 

There  are  some  of  our  crosses,  and  those  of 
the  heaviest  kind,  sin  alone  excepted,  in  enduring 
which  we  have  peculiarly  the  encouraging  thought 
that  we  are  following  our  Master.  They  are  the 
very  burdens  which  he  bore  before  us.  Such  are 
poverty,  labor,  pain,  disgrace,  bereavement,  temp 
tation.  Let  us  contemplate  them  in  turn. 

Poverty.  —  The   Son  of  God,  the   Saviour  of 


BEARING    THE    CROSS.  149 

men,  had  not  where  to  lay  his  head.  His  subsis 
tence  while  engaged  in  the  work  of  his  ministry 
was  from  the  contributions  of  others.  "  Though  he 
were  rich,  yet  for  our  sakes  he  became  poor,  that 
we  through  his  poverty  might  be  rich."  Few  in 
our  happy  country  are  called  to  know  the  extreme 
of  poverty,  as  endured  by  thousands  in  the  Old 
World.  Ours  is  more  generally  that  middle  sta 
tion,  which  is  as  far  removed  from  penury  as  from 
wealth  ;  the  condition  for  which  one  prayed  of 
old,  —  "  Give  me  neither  poverty  nor  riches  ;  feed 
me  with  food  convenient  for  me ;  lest  I  be  full, 
and  deny  thee,  and  say,  Who  is  the  Lord  ?  or  lest 
I  be  poor,  and  steal,  and  take  the  name  of  my 
God  in  vain."  Proverbs  xxx.  8,  9.  Shall  we 
not  only  fail  to  appreciate  the  moral  advantages 
of  such  a  position,  but,  when  so  much  is  granted, 
ungratefully  complain  that  we  have  not  more  ? 
Nay,  rather,  even  if  our  lot  be  still  more  lowly, 
let  us  remember  the  poverty  of  Jesus,  and  reflect 
that  "  the  disciple  is  not  above  his  master,  nor  the 
servant  above  his  lord." 

Labor.  —  The  ministry  of  Christ  was  not  one  of 
ease.  The  days  were  spent  in  journeying  with 
his  disciples,  until,  wearied  with  his  travel,  he 
rested,  as  by  the  well  of  Samaria ;  or  in  instruc 
tions  to  the  multitude,  who  thronged  upon  him  so 
13* 


150  THE  CHRISTIAN'S  WALK. 

continually,  that  at  one  time  we  are  told  he  had  not 
an  interval  "  so  much  as  to  eat,"  and  his  own  rel 
atives  went  forth  and  sought  to  lay  hold  on  him, 
"  for  they  said  he  is  beside  himself."  His  nights 
were  spent,  in  various  instances,  in  retirement  on 
some  mountain  height,  where  by  prayer  and  medi 
tation  he  was  strengthening  himself  for  still  further 
endurance.  If  labor  is  in  this  world  our  portion, 
shall  we  not  learn  from  his  cross  to  endure  ours  ? 

Pain.  —  How  many  a  Christian,  suffering  the 
agony  of  sickness,  has  turned  in  thought  to  those 
pains  of  body  which  the  Redeemer  endured,  and 
found  strength  to  bear  as  Christ  had  borne.  When 
the  weight  of  the  literal  cross  was  placed  upon 
him,  his  frame  was  yet  suffering  under  cruel  inflic 
tions,  and  as  with  toil  he  moved  on  beneath  his 
burden,  even  the  savage  executioners  so  far  com 
passionated  him,  as  to  compel  another  to  assist 
him  in  sustaining  it.  Hence  how  short  was  the 
interval  to  the  infliction  of  still  more  excruciating 
tortures,  the  completion  of  the  horrid  penalty 
which  impious  man  exacted  from  the  innocent  and 
the  holy !  Yes !  Let  those  who  are  called  to 
endure  pain  think  on  the  agonies  of  the  Saviour's 
crucifixion,  and  learn  patience  of  him  who  there 
so  meekly  suffered. 

Disgrace.  —  Harder  to  bear  than  corporeal  pain, 


BEARING    THE    CROSS.  151 

to  a  mind  possessing  any  thing  of  nobleness,  is  the 
scorn  of  fellow-beings.  To  be  despised  and  re 
jected  of  men,  the  object  of  reproach  to  all  around, 
—  can  any  affliction  transcend  this  ?  Yet  this  too 
the  Redeemer  endured.  He  was  thus  despised, 
thus  rejected.  This  trial  was  added  to  the  immedi 
ate  sufferings  of  his  cross,  when  they  that  passed 
by,  wagging  their  heads,  exclaimed,  "  He  saved 
others,  himself  he  cannot  save,"  —  when  even  his 
own  chosen  friends  betrayed,  abandoned,  and  de 
nied  him.  Scarcely  in  this  age  can  it  be  ours  to 
suffer  disgrace  for  the  cross  of  Christ ;  and  yet 
there  is  something  which  the  minds  of  those  who 
ought  to  be  his  disciples  represent  to  themselves 
as  partaking  of  this  character.  They  fear  the 
opinions  of  men,  if  they  should  venture  to  be 
known  as  religious.  The  offence  of  the  cross  has 
not,  in  their  view,  entirely  ceased ;  and,  honored  as 
the  Gospel  is  by  thousands,  they  are  still  afraid  of 
the  supposed  dishonor  accompanying  its  profession. 
Let  them  recognize,  rather,  if  they  are  called  to 
endure  shame  for  the  name  of  Jesus,  in  this  very 
shame  the  cross  which  Providence  summons  them 
to  bear.  Let  them  heed  then  his  words  who  de 
clared,  "  He  that  taketh  not  his  cross,  and  followeth 
after  me,  is  not  worthy  of  me,"  and  instead  of 
shrinking  from  the  light  yoke  and  easy  burden 


152  THE  CHRISTIAN'S  WALK. 

which  the  Gospel  in  this  age  presents,  let  them 
emulate  the  self-devoted  spirit  of  those  disciples, 
who  returned  from  trial  and  scourging  to  give 
thanks,  "  rejoicing  that  they  were  counted  worthy 
to  suffer  shame  for  his  name."  Acts  v.  41. 

Bereavement.  —  Painful   is   that    trial,   and    it 
comes  in  turn  to  us  all. 

"  Friend  after  friend  departs  ; 
Who  hath  not  lost  a  friend  ? " 

It  is  sad  to  bid  the  last  farewell  to  those  we  love. 
Whether  they  go  from  us  in  infancy,  in  middle 
life,  or  in  age,  whether  the  blow  be  sudden  or 
long  anticipated,  we  feel  that  grief  must  have 
way,  that  nature  bids  us  lament ;  nor  can  religion, 
with  all  her  consolations,  prevent  our  rendering 
the  tribute  of  sorrow  which  affection  claims.  Yet, 
Christian,  in  thy  mourning,  feel  thou  that  the  cross 
thou  bearest  is  that  which  Providence  hath  imposed 
upon  thee  ;  —  feel,  too,  and  be  consoled  by  the  re 
membrance,  that  he  in  whose  steps  thou  art  tread 
ing  bore  this  cross  also.  Jesus,  like  thee,  wept  by 
a  friend's  grave.  Hallowed  remembrance !  What 
Christian  has  mourned  and  has  found  consolation, 
that  would  bear  to  lose  from  the  Scriptures  that 
passage  in  which  the  beloved  disciple  has  record 
ed  the  tears  of  Jesus  by  the  grave  of  Lazarus  ? 
In  another  sense,  too,  did  Jesus  endure  bereave- 


BEARING    THE    CROSS.  153 

ment.  Who  ever  was,  like  him,  alone  among 
mankind  ?  -  His  nearest  friends  could  not  com 
prehend  his  spirit  nor  his  purposes.  His  disci 
ples,  at  the  moment  of  danger,  "  forsook  him  and 
fled." 

Temptation.  —  Grievous  are  the  sufferings  of 
bodily  anguish,  sharp  the  pangs  of  a  lacerated 
spirit ;  but  there  is  a  cross  more  to  be  dreaded  than 
these.  It  is  temptation.  Better  the  death  of  the 
body  than  the  ruin  of  the  soul ;  and  temptation  is 
that  which  threatens  the  soul's  ruin.  The  Saviour 
himself  taught  his  disciples  to  pray,  "  Lead  us  not 
into  temptation  "  ;  and  yet  we  have  to  tread  that 
path  ;  we  know  that  we  must  tread  it  so  long  as 
life  remains.  Our  position  is  one  of  struggle 
against  evil  inducements  ;  and  the  Divine  wisdom 
sees  best,  for  reasons  which  we  can  partially  dis- 
ceVn,  that  it  should  be  so.  But  despair  not,  disciple 
of  Jesus,  who  bearest  the  cross  of  temptation ;  for 
he  also  bore  it,  and  bore  it  triumphantly.  From 
the  first  hours  of  his  ministry,  when,  led  by  the 
spirit  into  the  wilderness  to  meditate,  he  beheld 
the  prizes  of  ambition  placed  before  him,  and 
turned  from  them  all  to  follow  the  straight  and 
narrow  path  of  duty,  through  all  his  long  course 
of  faithfulness,  up  to  the  hour  when  he  bore 
meek  yet  majestic  witness  to  the  truth  before 


154  THE  CHRISTIAN'S  WALK. 

Pontius  Pilate,  did  he  "  suffer,  being  tempted." 
How  hard  that  trial  was,  it  is  in  some  instances 
permitted  us  to  have  an  idea  from  the  expressions 
which  it  wrung  from  him.  "  Pray,"  said  he  to 
his  disciples  once  after  such  an  inward  contest, 
—  "  pray  that  ye  enter  not  into  temptation  ;  the 
spirit  truly  is  willing,  but  the  flesh  is  weak." 
"  Now,"  he  said  at  another  time,  —  "  now  is  my 
soul  troubled,  and  what  shall  I  say  ?  Father,  save 
me  from  this  hour  ?  But  .for  this  cause  came  I 
unto  this  hour.  Father,  glorify  thy  name  !  " 
Temptation  could  assail  him,  but  it  could  not  con 
quer.  Firmly  he  endured  that  cross  also,  and 
having  remained  faithful  unto  death,  he  is  set 
down  at  the  right  hand  of  the  Majesty  on  high. 
Let  the  tempted  look  to  Jesus,  and  since  the  cross 
of  trial  is  appointed  by  God,  firmly,  though 
in  humility,  assume,  and  resolutely  bear  it,  re 
membering  that  Jesus  thus  sustained  it,  who 
was  tempted  in  all  points  as  we  are,  yet  without 
sin. 

Coinciding  more  or  less  nearly  with  one  or  an 
other  of  these  classes  of  endurance  which  we  have 
now  glanced  at,  are  the  various  crosses  which 
individuals  are  called  to  bear.  Generally,  too, 
there  is  to  each  one  some  peculiar  cross,  which 
he  may  recognize  as  being  the  evil  he  most 


BEARING    THE    CROSS.  155 

desires  to  have  removed,  or  the  want  which  he 
most  wishes  to  have  gratified.  And  the  thought 
may  sufficiently  indicate  how  such  trials  are  to 
be  borne,  that  the  very  earnestness  of  his  wish 
may  serve  to  show  him  what  that  is,  the  endurance 
of  which  is  at  the  time  the  very  cross  that 
Providence  imposes  on  him  ;  patience  under  it 
the  very  duty  which  at  that  moment  his  God 
requires.  Is  labor  hard  to  you  ?  Then  that  labor 
is  your  cross,  by  meekly  bearing  which  you  can 
follow  your  Saviour.  Do  you  feel  that  you  could 
with  pleasure  endure  labor,  but  pine  at  the  con 
finement  of  your  sick-room,  which  forbids  you  to 
engage  in  it  ?  Be  comforted,  then,  by  the  feeling, 
that  the  service  *of  God  is  as  possible  to  you  now 
as  it  was  in  the  hours  of  health.  Your  peculiar 
cross  is  now  sickness  ;  —  your  peculiar  duty,  to 
bear  it  resignedly.  When  recovery  comes,  be 
thankful,  but  expect  not  that  in  the  removal  of 
one  cross  your  service  is  ended.  Still  there  will 
be  something  to  endure  ;  and  you,  if  you  are  a 
faithful  Christian,  would  not  have  it  otherwise,  — 
would  not  be  found  unmarked  with  that  sacred 
sign,  which  the  Redeemer  bore,  and  which  his 
true  followers  must  bear. 

There  is  one  cross  which  it  is  ours  to  bear, 
that,  unlike  those  which  have  been  named,  was 


n 


156 


not  endured  by  Christ.  It  is  sin.  Yes  ;  we  must 
bear  what  our  Saviour  never  bore,  the  conscious 
ness  of  neglected  opportunities,  duties  unper 
formed,  and  transgressions  committed.  We  must 
endure  the  trial  of  those  temptations  which  derive 
increase  of  strength  from  our  own  previous  crimi 
nal  yielding  to  them  ;  ours  must  be  the  shame  and 
the  agony  of  regret.  Far  better  any  other  suffer 
ing  than  this ;  yet  this,  too,  is  a  cross  which  we 
have  a  duty  to  perform  in  enduring.  If  we  are 
guilty  in  the  sight  of  God,  the  consciousness  of 
that  guilt  is,  with  unquestionable  justice,  made  a 
part  of  the  burden  we  are  to  sustain ;  and  in  sus 
taining  it  is  exercise  for  humility  of  spirit,  for 
penitence  which  looks  upon  the  past,  and  for  holy 
determination  which  contemplates  the  future. 
We  have  to  strengthen  us  the  assurance  that  God 
is  merciful,  —  yet  more,  that  God  is  our  Father. 
But  for  this,  the  cross  of  sin  would  be  intolerable. 
Let  us  not  shrink,  then,  from  the  contemplation  of 
past  errors.  It  is  a  part  of  the  duty  we  owe  to  Him 
who  in  all  but  his  sinlessness  was  our  brother ;  it 
is  a  cross,  though  not  like  his,  which,  if  endured 
aright,  may  be  the  means  of  making  us  resemble 
him  more  perfectly,  by  the  power  of  true  repent 
ance  to  win  back  the  forfeited  brightness  of  in 
nocence. 


INSTRUMENTAL  AND  ACTIVE  DUTIES. 


THE  duties  of  the  communicant,  it  is  sufficient 
ly  obvious,  are  essentially  the  same  which  are  in 
cumbent  upon  all.  Our  obligations  to  God  and  to 
our  fellow-men  do  not  depend  on  our  acknowl 
edging  their  existence.  The  law  of  Christ  is  the 
rule  of  life  prescribed  for  us  by  Divine  authority, 
and  our  neglect  of  one  among  its  precepts  surely 
does  not  excuse  us  from  obedience  to  the  others. 

Still  it  is  true,  that  every  right  action  we 
perform  gives  a  pledge  of  consistent  action  in 
future ;  and  that  a  falling  into  sin  involves  more 
of  disgrace,  and  more  of  moral  injury  to  ourselves 
and  others,  the  higher  our  characters  have  previous 
ly  stood.  To  ourselves,  there  is  danger  that  the 
greatness  of  the  fall  may  produce  discouragement, 
instead  of  salutary  penitence  ;  and  those  who  be 
hold  are  liable  to  be  hardened  in  sin,  and  tempted 

to  disbelieve  and  scorn  the  power  of  virtue  and 
14 


158 


religion.  The  offences  of  professed  disciples 
"  give  occasion  to  the  enemies  of  the  Lord  to 
blaspheme."  The  most  mournful  wounds  which 
religion  has  received  have  been  "  in  the  house  of 
her  friends." 

The  believer,  then,  who  in  a  sincere  and  humble 
spirit  has  joined  the  Church  of  Christ,  cannot  be 
indifferent  to  the  question,  What  course  of  life 
should  I  pursue,  that  it  may  be  consistent  with 
the  profession  that  I  have  made  ?  What  duties 
are  yet  before  me,  and  how  am  I  to  discharge 
them  ? 

The  duties  of  the  Christian's  life  may  be  classi 
fied  under  the  divisions  of  instrumental,  passive, 
and  active.  Of  these,  the  second  class  has  al 
ready  received  our  notice,  in  the  preceding  sec 
tion.  The  instrumental  and  the  active  duties  re 
main  for  us  to  consider. 

Under  the  former  may  be  named  the  reading 
of  the  Scriptures,  self-examination,  and  prayer, 
together  with  the  observance  of  the  Lord's  day 
and  its  ordinances.  These  are  means  for  im 
provement  in  actual  virtue  ;  they  are  instruments 
for  cultivating  within  us  the  love  of  God  and 
man. 

Let  not  any  one  fancy  that  the  advancement  he 
has  already  made  justifies  him  in  neglecting  the 


n 

INSTRUMENTAL    DUTIES.  159 

duties  of  personal  religion.  Let  not  any  one 
fancy  that  a  profession  once  made  of  faith  in 
Christ  is  enough  to  make  him  and  keep  him  a  re 
ligious  man.  Religion  is  not  a  thing  once  to  be 
experienced  and  afterwards  to  be  left  to  itself. 
The  mind  and  heart  require  nourishment,  as 
much  as  the  body.  As  the  human  frame  without 
food  would  languish  and  die,  so  without  inward, 
spiritual  food,  the  soul  languishes,  the  spiritual 
powers  are  weakened,  the  religious  character 
dies. 

And  what  is  this  food  of  the  soul  ?  How  is 
the  immortal  spirit  to  be  sustained  ?  Prayer,  read 
ing,  reflection,  self-examination,  the  services  of 
God's  house,  and  active  virtue,  —  these  are  the 
means  of  sustaining  that  religious  character  which 
is  the  soul's  life.  And  though  active  virtue  be  of 
the  list,  let  it  not  be  thought  that  the  others  can 
safely  be  relinquished.  Nor  are  prayer  and  re 
flection  to  be  dreaded  or  shunned.  To  the  pious 
mind,  they  are  among  the  highest  pleasures. 
Sometimes,  indeed,  it  is  painful  to  reflect,  —  it  is 
painful  even  to  pray,  —  when  reflection  finds  no 
theme  but  the  remembrance  of  lost  opportunities 
and  committed  faults,  and  when  prayer  is  the 
pleading  of  a  spirit  that  is  struggling  to  be  humble, 
but  has  not  yet  fully  attained  the  humility  which 

n — ; 


160 

makes  prayer  delightful.  But  when  sin  and  pride 
are  yielding,  —  when  we  can  trace  in  our  own 
characters  something  of  improvement,  —  when 
we  can  indulge  a  hope  that  we  are  somewhat 
nearer  heaven  than  before,  and  when,  at  the  same 
time,  we  have  so  far  conquered  the  temptation  to 
vanity  and  self-admiration,  as  to  recognize  God, 
and  not  ourselves,  as  the  author  of  this  advance 
ment,  —  then,  indeed,  reflection  is  pleasure  ;  and 
prayer  is  the  spontaneous  and  delighted  pouring 
forth  of  gratitude  to  Him  whose  presence  we  feel 
to  be  around  us,  and  whose  grace  we  feel  to  be  in 
our  hearts. 

But  it  is  not  only  at  such  times  that  the  Chris 
tian  is  to  pray,  or  read,  or  meditate.  It  is  a  fatal 
mistake  of  some,  to  think  they  need  only  attend 
to  these  duties  when  their  inclination  prompts. 
They  say,  that  sometimes,  when  their  devotional 
feelings  are  excited,  they  do  pray,  —  sometimes, 
when  so  disposed,  they  do  read  the  Scriptures. 
This  is  leaving  their  religion  to  be  the  result  of 
accident.  What  is  postponed  now  for  want  of 
suitable  feeling,  now  again  for  want  of  time,  may 
soon  be  entirely  neglected.  Whatever  is  worth 
doing  at  all  is  worth  doing  regularly,  at  stated  in 
tervals.  And  at  these  intervals,  if  the  mind  is 
not  in  a  right  train  for  the  service,  it  is  to  be 


INSTRUMENTAL    DUTIES.  161 

brought  into  a  right  train.  Reflection  can  be 
called  up,  to  remind  us  how  great  is  the  Being  in 
whose  presence  we  stand,  our  God,  the  Lord  of 
heaven  and  earth,  the  Eternal,  Invisible,  Unsearch 
able  God,  whom  no  mortal  eye  can  see,  and  who 
yet  is  around  us  constantly,  who  sees  all  our  ac 
tions,  hears  every  word,  and  traces  every  thought, 
though  it  be  almost  hidden  from  ourselves.  Thus 
can  the  mind  be  suitably  composed  for  the  high 
intercourse  of  prayer ;  and  if  devotion  does  not 
ascend  on  her  boldest  wing,  at  least  the  exercise 
will  be  an  offering  of  such  .as  we  have  to  offer, 
and  our  spirits  will  be,  by  its  influence,  in  some 
degree  purified  and  elevated.  Let  prayer,  then, 
and  reading,  reflection  and  self-examination,  be 
made  regular  duties. 

The  hours  of  morning  and  of  evening  are  sug 
gested  by  nature,  by  Scripture,  and  by  the  common 
consent  of  mankind,  as  the  suitable  seasons  for 
regular  devotion.  And  what  is  the  most  appro 
priate  period  for  self-examination  ?  This  is,  in 
deed,  like  prayer,  a  duty  for  all  times  and  places. 
The  individual  must  ever  have  a  watch  over  him 
self,  and  must  ever  be  ready,  even  though  amidst 
a  crowd,  to  seek,  in  silent  ejaculation,  aid  from 
heaven.  But  as  for  prayer,  so  also  for  self-ex 
amination,  the  allotment  of  some  definite  period 


162  THE  CHRISTIAN'S  WALK. 

of  time  is  the  best  way  to  insure  the  regular  per 
formance  of  the  duty.  The  calm  leisure  of  the 
Sabbath  day,  the  recurrence  of  the  ordinance 
commemorative  of  our  Saviour,  and  whatever 
periods  of  the  year  are  hallowed  to  our  recollec 
tion  by  events  of  peculiar  importance, — these  may 
well  be  employed  for  the  purpose  of  a  self-com 
munion,  in  which  conscience  shall  penetrate  the 
recesses  of  the  soul,  and  dislodge  thence  every 
bad  passion,  every  unholy  thought,  every  guest 
unworthy  to  endure  the  presence  of  that  God  to 
whom  we  have  consecrated  the  temple  of  the 
heart. 

Among  the  means  which  we  may  use  for  our 
own  improvement  and  the  expression  of  reverence 
to  God,  are  some  which  are  also  to  be  classed 
among  our  duties  to  others.  Such  are  family 
prayer,  public  worship,  and  the  use  of  the  ordi 
nances  of  religion. 

Family  prayer,  where  properly  conducted,  is 
the  blessing  of  God  on  the  domestic  circle.  We 
will  not  say  merely  that  it  calls  down  a  blessing, 
though  this  we  believe ;  but  it  is  in  itself  a  blessing. 
It  introduces,  more  than  can  in  any  other  way  be 
done,  the  spirit  of  religion  into  the  circle  of  par 
ents  and  children,  brothers  and  sisters.  It  binds 
all  together  with  the  golden  chain  of  love  to  one 


INSTRUMENTAL    DUTIES.  163 

another,  and  to  the  Father  and  to  the  Saviour  of 
all.  To  the  younger  portion  of  the  family  its 
influence  may  be  most  valuable.  The  example 
of  the  parent  is  set  before  them  as  a  motive  to 
personal  religion ;  and  no  motive  can  be  more 
powerful.  Is  it  objected,  that  few  are  competent 
to  conduct  the  exercise  in  an  appropriate  manner  ? 
We  may  reply,  that  excellent  manuals  of  devotion 
are  accessible  to  all ;  and  that  it  is  not  in  the 
number  of  words  that  the  influence  of  family 
prayer  consists,  but  in  the  act  of  the  domestic  cir 
cle  uniting  each  day  to  acknowledge  the  goodness 
and  to  seek  the  blessing  of  God.  Of  the  direct 
answer  that  is  granted  to  such  prayers,  there 
seems  no  further  reason  to  doubt,  than  of  the  an 
swer  to  public  or  to  individual  supplications.  We 
know  that  the  Scriptures  authorize  and  inculcate 
prayer  ;  that  the  patriarchs  worshipped  in  the  pres 
ence  of  their  families,  and  the  Saviour  among  his 
disciples.  We  doubt  not  that  our  devotions  are 
known  to  the  Omniscient ;  nor  that  the  All- 
merciful  and  All-powerful  is  equally  willing  and 
able  to  bestow  the  blessings  that  are  suitably  im 
plored. 

Next  to  family  worship,  attendance  on  the  ser 
vices  of  the  sanctuary  presents  itself  for  our  re 
flection.     This,  like  the  discharge  of  the  other  in- 
33 


164 


strumental  duties  of  religion,  should  be  regular. 
We  have  already  laid  down  the  principle,  that 
whatever  object  is  to  be  accomplished  can  be 
better  effected  by  systematic  efforts,  than  by 
regarding  merely  the  promptings  of  occasional 
inclination.  And  let  us  remember,  that  our 
Saviour  enforced  the  precept,  "  Take  heed  how 
ye  hear."  Let  us  remember  that  he  com 
pared  the  preaching  of  the  Gospel  to  the  scatter 
ing  of  seed,  which  fell  in  vain,  unless  it  fell 
on  good  ground  ;  and  that  even  of  those  who 
attended  on  his  preaching,  the  greater  number, 
from  want  of  due  preparation  on  their  own  part, 
derived  no  advantage  from  their  inestimable 
privilege.  Hence  may  wre  learn  to  bring  to  the 
house  of  prayer  the  hearing  ear,  the  understand 
ing  heart,  and  the  docile  and  obedient  spirit. 

With  respect  to  the  employment  of  those  hours 
of  the  Lord's  day  which  are  not  spent  in  public 
worship,  we  may  observe,  in  general  terms,  that 
he  who  wishes  to  derive  real  improvement  from 
the  thoughts  presented  to  him  in  church  will  not 
be  disposed  to  engage  immediately  after  in  any 
thing,  either  of  business  or  of  pleasure,  which 
would  banish  eveiy  serious  thought  from  his  mind. 
"  The  Sabbath  was  made  for  man  "  ;  but  much  of 
its  usefulness  to  man  depends  upon  his  holding  it 

n 


INSTRUMENTAL    DUTIES.  165 

sacred,  —  sacred  from  the  common  cares  of  life, 
and  from  some  of  its  ordinary  enjoyments.  En 
joyments  the  day  may  and  ought  to  have.  It 
should  be,  it  is  meant  to  be,  the  happiest  day  of 
all  the  seven.  But  its  pleasures  should  be  of  that 
quiet,  simple,  thoughtful  character,  that  may  be 
consistent  with  the  serious  duties  that  engage  a 
portion  of  its  hours.  And  in  regard  even  to  oc 
cupations  which  may  appear  in  themselves  inno 
cent,  the  Christian,  if  he  has  the  spirit  of  his 
Master  and  of  Paul,  will  be  disposed  rather  to 
deny  himself  than  to  do  "  any  thing  whereby  a 
brother  may  stumble,  or  be  led  into  sin,  or  be 
made  weak."  Rom.  xiv.  21. 

Thus  have  we  reviewed  the  instrumental  duties 
of  religion,  with  the  exception  of  the  Lord's 
Supper  itself.  In  this  the  disciple  will  engage  in 
deference  to  the  command  of  his  Saviour,  and  not 
in  deference  to  that  alone.  He  will  strive  to  culti 
vate  within  himself  that  spirit  of  love  to  his 
Master,  which  will  render  participation  in  the  me 
morial  of  his  Master's  death,  not  merely  a  duty, 
but  a  pleasure.  He  will  regard  the  communion 
as  a  proper  occasion  for  self-inspection,  and  for  a 
renewed  examination  of  the  perfect  character  of 
his  Saviour.  Prayer  and  praise  are  sacred  to  our 
God;  the  communion  Is  sacred  to  Jesus  Christ, 


166  THE  CHRISTIAN'S  WALK. 

not  as  an  act  of  worship,  but  of  friendly,  brother 
ly  commemoration. 

But  the  Supper  of  the  Lord,  like  public,  social, 
and  private  prayer,  though  valuable  in  itself,  will 
be  by  such  a  person  valued  most  as  instrumental 
to  something  beyond.  He  will  remember  the 
solemn  meaning  of  those  words,  "  Let  eveiy  one 
that  nameth  the  name  of  Christ  depart  from  in 
iquity."  (2  Tim.  ii.  19.)  He  will  feel  that  the 
discharge  of  duty  to  man  is  the  mode  of  service 
most  acceptable  to  that  God  who  declared  of  old, 
"  I  will  have  mercy,  and  not  sacrifice." 

"  Ye,"  said  our  Saviour  to  his  disciples,  "  ye 
are  the  salt  of  the  earth  " ;  "  ye  are  the  light  of 
the  world."  These  are  lofty  titles;  but  they 
were  applied  by  our  holy  Master  to  the  band  of 
his  followers,  and  to  the  band  of  his  followers  they 
still  belong.  The  Christian  Church  is  now,  as  of 
old,  the  salt  of  the  earth,  the  light  of  the  world. 
The  members,  then,  of  the  Christian  Church  should 
remember  the  influence  they  exert,  and  their  re- 
sponsibleness  for  its  exercise.  If  the  salt  have 
lost  its  savor,  wherewith  shall  it  be  seasoned  ? 
If  the  light  of  the  world  become  darkness,  how 
great  is  that  darkness  ! 

Leaving  the  instrumental,  we  now  approach  the 
active  duties  of  the  Christian,  —  those  which  he 


ACTIVE    DUTIES.  167 


is  called  upon  to  discharge  toward  his  fellow-men. 
First  among  them  we  may  with  propriety  notice 
what  is  due  to  his  associates  in  the  Church. 

Communicants  at  present  form  among  us  a  dis 
tinct  body  ;  and  a  distinct  body  they  must  form, 
until  either  the  ordinance  shall  cease  to  be  ob 
served,  —  which  we  trust  may  never  be,  —  or  un 
til  all  shall  unite  in  it.  However  we  may  regret 
the  distinction  between  church  and  congregation, 
we  must  act  according  to  the  existing  state  of 
things.  Perceiving,  then,  that  some  of  each  re 
ligious  society  are  peculiarly  united  together,  if 
by  no  other  tie,  at  least  by  meeting  each  other  at 
the  communion,  we  must  consider  what  duties 
these  owe  to  one  another. 

This  point  would  be  very  differently  settled  in 
different  assemblies  of  Christians.  Among  some, 
were  we  to  propose  this  question,  we  should  be 
told  that  each  member  of  the  Church  owes  it  to 
his  brethren  to  exercise  a  strict,  though  affection 
ate,  watch  over  their  conduct,  freely  though  kindly 
to  admonish  them  of  any  perceived  error,  and,  if 
admonition  should  fail,  to  act  in  concert  with  the 
Church  at  large  as  a  judicial  tribunal  for  their  ex 
amination  and  discipline.  It  must  be  confessed 
that  this  view  of  a  church,  as  a  body  which  is  to 
exercise  a  very  constant  and  watchful  discipline 


168  THE  CHRISTIAN'S  WALK. 

over  its  members,  is  in  accordance  with  the  prac 
tice  of  the  early  Christians,  and  claims  to  be  au 
thorized  by  the  precepts  of  our  Saviour  and  the 
Apostles.  But,  on  the  other  hand,  it  is  to  be  re 
membered  that  the  early  Christians,  living  under 
a  despotic  and  heathen  government,  had  much 
more  occasion  for  a  tribunal  within  their  own 
body,  to  compose  their  differences  and  pass  cen 
sure  on  their  faults,  than  exists  at  the  present  day. 
It  is  to  be  remembered  that  the  experience  of 
ages  since  that  time  has  shown  the  great  danger 
that  attends  the  placing  of  temporal  power  in  the 
hands  of  spiritual  leaders.  It  is  also  worthy  of 
remark,  that  our  Saviour,  if  he  laid  down  some 
principles  of  what  may  be  called  church  disci 
pline,  pointed  out  in  those  principles  a  course  of 
advice  and  remonstrance,  not  of  coercion  (Matt, 
xviii.  15,  17) ;  and  that  the  only  instance  in  which 
St.  Paul  is  recorded  to  have  authorized  even  the 
suspension  of  a  member  from  communion,  was  an 
instance  of  such  gross  immorality  as  not  the  most 
lenient  church  at  the  present  day  would  tolerate. 
(1  Cor.  v. ;  2  Cor.  ii.)  Then,  too,  it  may  be  urged 
with  force,  that  a  system  of  continual  supervision 
of  each  other's  conduct  would  be  apt  to  do  more 
harm,  by  the  introduction  of  an  inquisitive,  inter 
meddling  and  suspicious  spirit,  than  it  could  ever 


ACTIVE    DUTIES.  169 


do  good  by  the  purifying  effect  of  its  discipline ; 
that  thus  heart-burnings  and  jealousies  would  take 
the  place  of  that  brotherly  love  which  ought  to  be 
the  bond  of  Christian  union ;  that  in  a  community 
as  numerous  as  Christian  churches  frequently  are, 
there  would  often  be  persons  who  would  combine 
a  zeal  for  discipline  with  a  narrowness  of  mind 
which  would  be  unable  to  distinguish  between 
matters  of  consequence  and  trifles,  between  forms 
and  substance.  Among  the  early  Christians  it 
was  better  to  have  points  of  difference  concerning 
right  subjected  to  the  kind  arbitration  of  their 
brethren,  than  decided  by  heathen  judges.  In  the 
Dark  Ages,  when  the  right  of  the  strongest  often 
took  the  place  of  law  and  order,  the  spiritual 
weapons  of  suspension  and  excommunication,  if 
they  were  often  abused  to  wrong  purposes,  were 
perhaps  still  oftener  valuable  for  right.  But  in 
our  Christian  and  civilized  age,  it  is  better  to  leave 
questions  that  admit  of  such  adjudication  to  be  set 
tled  by  the  law  of  the  land,  to  exercise  church  disci 
pline  only  in  extreme  cases,  for  purging  the  Church 
from  members  whose  lives  would  disgrace  it,  and  to 
substitute  in  its  stead  a  fraternal  feeling  among  the 
members  of  the  same  communion,  and  an  inter 
course  in  which  harmony  shall  be  secured  by  mutu 
al  forbearance,  and  respect  for  the  liberty  of  all. 
15 


170 


It  by  no  means  follows,  however,  that  those 
who  meet  at  the  same  table  to  commemorate  the 
death  of  their  Lord,  may  not  feel  and  encourage 
an  interest  in  each  other's  welfare,  or  even  that 
such  an  interest  may  not  extend  to  the  spiritual  as 
well  as  temporal  good  of  their  fellow-members. 
Such  an  interest  ought  to  exist.  They  who  have 
fixed  their  hearts  on  the  same  object,  they  who 
are  travelling  the  same  road,  should  feel  that  they 
are  indeed  companions.  It  may  often  be  in  their 
power  to  facilitate  each  other's  progress ;  to  do  so, 
should  not  be  less  a  pleasure  than  a  duty.  Nor, 
while  we  find  so  many  of  the  worthiest  among  us, 
who  from  various  reasons  decline  attendance  at 
the  Communion,  should  we  fail  on  this  account  to 
extend  to  them  our  fraternal  sympathy  and  aid. 
The  worshippers  in  the  same  house  of  prayer  are 
bound  together  by  a  near  and  sacred  relation.  A 
relation  less  near,  but  not  less  sacred,  connects  to 
gether  all  the  followers  of  the  Saviour.  Wherever 

o 

we  find  a  Christian,  there  should  our  hearts  recog 
nize  a  brother.  It  is  said,  that  of  old,  when  the 
professors  of  Christianity,  few  in  number,  were 
surrounded  by  a  hostile  world,  the  heathen,  bitterly 
as  they  opposed  them,  could  not  avoid  sometimes 
saying,  "  Behold,  how  these  Christians  love  one 
another."  Happy  will  be  the  Christian  Church, 


~- 


ACTIVE    DUTIES.  171 


if,  at  the  present  day,  the  same  can  be  said  ;  — 
and  happy  that  portion  of  it,  however  small,  in 
which  unity  of  spirit,  mutual  respect,  and  brother 
ly  kindness  prevail. 

What  is  the  duty  of  the  communicant  toward 
the  world  at  large  ?  It  differs  in  naught  from  the 
duty  of  any  other  member  of  society.  It  may 
naturally  be  expected,  however,  that  the  feelings 
which  have  led  the  disciple  to  a  profession  of  re 
ligion  will  accompany  him  still,  and  shed  the 
light  of  religious  feeling  and  religious  motive  over 
every  field  of  human  obligation.  In  the  constitu 
tion  of  society  every  man  bears  his  part,  but  it 
often  is  the  case  that  men  are  unacquainted  with 
the  true  nature  of  the  ties  which  bind  them  to 
each  other.  Prompted  only  by  private  interest  or 
feeling,  they  discharge  their  part  for  the  general 
good,  and  see  not,  all  the  time,  that  wisdom  which 
has  arranged  the  motives  and  course  of  their 
action.  Each  is  like  some  inanimate  portion  of 
a  machine,  which  yields  blindly  to  the  impulse  of 
the  moving  power,  unconscious  of  the  purposes 
for  which  it  is  employed.  Thus  it  is  with  men  in 
every  condition  of  life  ;  alike  with  the  tiller  of 
the  ground  and  with  the  conqueror  ;  both  are 
instruments  in  the  hands  of  Providence,  and 
Providence  employs  the  one  to  aid  in  producing 


172  THE  CHRISTIAN'S  WALK. 

sustenance  for  mankind,  and  the  other  to  execute 
judgment  on  the  guilty,  and  salutary  discipline  on 
the  erring  among  nations ;  but  each,  meanwhile, 
sees  only  himself  and  the  circle  of  private  mo 
tives  by  which  he  is  influenced.  Religion  com 
municates  to  man  a  knowledge  of  his  true  posi 
tion.  It  is  then  as  if  the  machine  could  become 
conscious  of  the  results  it  is  destined  to  effect,  and 
of  their  importance.  The  individual  now  sees  the 
bearing  of  his  own  conduct  on  the  happiness  of 
those  around  him,  and  perceives  himself  to  be  a 
fellow-worker  with  God  for  the  benefit  of  society. 
This  idea  it  is  which  distinguishes  the  duty  and 
the  conduct  of  the  religious  man.  His  eye  is 
opened  to  his  own  true  position.  He  sees  that, 
while  he  has  thought  of  nothing  but  the  acquisition 
of  property,  God  has  made  use  of  the  industry 
he  has  thus  developed  for  the  good  of  society. 
He  sees  that,  while  he  has  thought  only  of  gratify 
ing  his  own  taste,  he  has,  without  intending  it, 
gratified  also  that  of  others.  He  enters  then 
cheerfully  into  the  plans  of  infinite  benevolence, 
as  he  begins  to  understand  them.  His  conduct 
perhaps  is  the  same,  but  its  motives  are  different. 
He  labors  now,  not  only  for  himself,  but  in  part  for 
the  sake  of  others,  and  in  part  from  a  feeling  in 
harmony  with  the  plans  of  his  Creator.  He  sees 


IN 
ACTIVE    DUTIES.  173 

God  in  all,  and  all  in  God.  Has  he  children  ? 
He  not  only  provides  for  them  from  the  instinctive 
principle  which  sways  the  animal,  he  not  only 
cherishes  them  for  his  own  gratification,  —  though 
this  instinctive  principle,  and  this  gratification  in 
the  growth  and  progress  of  his  children,  are 
strengthened,  not  weakened,  by  the  introduction 
of  higher  motives,  —  but  he  contemplates  God  as 
the  wise  author  and  disposer  of  the  parental  re 
lation,  —  he  sees  himself  intrusted  with  these  ob 
jects  from  a  higher  power,  and  on  this  view  of 
duty  does  he  conduct  himself  towards  them.  And 
so  of  every  relation  he  sustains.  This  it  is,  as 
the  Apostle  commands,  to  "  do  all  to  the  glory  of 
God  "  ;  —  to  feel,  in  whatever  we  have  to  do,  the 
relation  which  it  bears  to  God,  and  to  our  duty  as 
his  subjects.  The  man  who  realizes  the  feelings 
we  have  endeavoured  to  describe  and  convey,  views 
the  world  from  an  entirely  different  and  more  ele 
vated  point  than  the  community  at  large.  Of  the 
thousands  around  him,  each  sees  only  his  own  lim 
ited  part ;  but  this  man,  while  he  sees  his  own  part, 
sends  a  glance  abroad  over  the  whole,  views  it  in 
its  relations  to  God,  and  himself  cooperates  with 
God's  designs  concerning  it  to  the  best  of  his 
ability.  Thus  it  is  that  the  love  of  God  leads  to 

the  love  of  man ;  that  piety  introduces  true  philan- 
15* 


174  THE  CHRISTIAN'S  WALK. 

thropy ;  because,  as  we  come  nearer  to  our 
Heavenly  Father,  understand  his  character  and 
will  better,  and  love  him  more,  we  feel  more  as 
he  feels,  in  reference  to  our  fellow-men. 

The  present  is  peculiarly  an  age  of  philanthrop 
ic  exertion.  Plans  of  benevolence  of  the  widest  ex 
tent,  and  adapted  to  all  the  varied  forms  of  human 
suffering,  are  offered  to  the  attention  of  the  com 
munity.  To  their  claims  the  consistent  Christian 
cannot  be  indifferent.  His  first  attention  is  due  to 
those  immediately  around  him  ;  the  duties  of  the 
son  or  brother,  husband  or  father,  must  first  be 
discharged;  then  follow  those  of  the  friend,  the 
neighbour,  and  the  citizen.  It  must  be  his  to  re 
lieve  distress,  to  encourage  virtuous  conduct,  to 
warn  against  vice,  among  those  to  whom  his  direct 
influence  extends.  But  beyond  this  sphere  he  has 
duties.  The  love  taught  him  by  his  Saviour  is 
not  less  comprehensive  than  the  world.  Among 
the  many  plans  for  the  relief  of  suffering,  the  re 
straint  of  wrong,  the  advancement  of  knowledge, 
civilization,  and  Christianity,  he  is  to  choose,  calm 
ly  and  justly,  such  as  commend  themselves  to  his 
approval,  and  come  within  his  power  of  efficient 
cooperation.  It  cannot  be  his  to  have  a  part  in 
all  the  good  that  is  done  among  mankind.  It  may 
be  best  that  he  should  concentrate  his  efforts  on 


irvs 

ACTIVE    DUTIES.  175 


some  one  object  in  the  wide  field  of  Christian 
beneficence.  If  so,  still  let  him  be  just  to  others. 
Their  efforts,  too,  must  be  bounded,  from  the  very 
nature  of  things.  It  is  neither  desirable  nor  possi 
ble  that  all  other  objects  should  be  forsaken  for 
that  which  has  engaged  his  attention.  Never  let 
him  condemn  that  which  he  has  not  examined  ; 
never  let  him  judge  the  motives  and  the  consciences 
of  others.  In  his  own  chosen  sphere  let  him 
labor,  whether  success  be  sent  to  encourage,  or 
disappointment  to  prove  him.  It  is  not  the  amount 
of  what  he  shall  accomplish,  but  the  sincere  fidel 
ity  with  which  he  labors,  that  shall  gain  him  the 
approval  of  conscience  and  of  God.  As  to  the 
approbation  of  men,  let  him  not  seek  for  it,  ex 
cept  in  strict  subordination  to  those  higher  aims. 
With  humility,  but  with  steadfastness,  let  him 
follow  in  the  path  which  Jesus  trod,  and  though  it 
should  conduct  him  to  the  cross,  beyond  the  cross 
is  the  heavenly  crown. 


PART    V. 
MEDITATIONS  IN  TERSE, 


PART    V. 
MEDITATIONS  IN  VERSE 

"BEHOLD  THE  MAN!" 

BEHOLD  the  Man !    By  that  calm  eye, 
By  that  mild  lip,  my  Lord  I  know ; 

But  why  those  drops  of  crimson  dye, 
That  majesty  of  patient  woe  ? 

Around  thee  clings  a  robe  of  state, 
But  ah !  in  mockery,  stained  and  torn ; 

And  for  the  crown's  imperial  weight, 
Thy  temples  bear  the  piercing  thorn. 

Behold  the  Man !    Thy  cheek  is  pale, 
Thy  form  with  torture  seems  to  faint ; 

But  the  strong  soul  can  yet  prevail, 
And  the  meek  lip  knows  no  complaint. 

The  wounds  thy  bleeding  frame  has  borne, 
The  sharper  pangs  thou  yet  must  bear, 


180  MEDITATIONS    IN    VERSE. 

The  princes'  hate,  the  soldiers'  scorn,  — 
Are  there  worse  ills  than  these  to  share  ? 

Yes  !  it  is  worse  to  die  abhorred 
By  those  whom  thou  hast  lived  to  save, 

To  hear  thine  Israel  doom  her  Lord, 
Her  benefactor,  to  the  grave. 

Yet,  Saviour,  there  were  thoughts  that  came, 
Like  angel  ministrants,  to  cheer 

Thy  spirit  through  that  pain  and  shame ; 
And  one  among  them,  bright  and  dear ;  — 

That  coming  ages  should  repay,     • 
By  love,  the  scorn  of  that  sad  hour ; 

For  visioned  to  thy  spirit  lay 

Thy  rising  kingdom's  future  power. 

And  now  is  that  fruition  thine 

Whose  hope  could  then  thy  soul  sustain ; 
And  thou,  enthroned  in  bliss  divine, 

Art  spreading  still  thy  glorious  reign. 

Lo,  heathen  altars  crumbling  fall ! 

Lo,  ocean's  isles  thy  voice  obey ! 
And  soon  the  light  that  beams  for  all, 

O'er  the  wide  earth  shall  pour  its  ray. 

And  we,  —  shall  not  our  spirits  bend 
To  him  who  in  that  strife  o'ercame  1 

Our  praises  for  that  King  ascend, 
Who  comes  in  God  his  Father's  name  ? 


BEHOLD    THE    MAN  ! 


181 


Yes,  by  that  patient,  bleeding  brow, 
By  all  thy  wrongs,  by  all  thy  love  ! 

Saviour !  before  thee  here  we  bow, 
Thy  service  be  our  bliss  above ! 


16 


JESUS  BEFOEE  PILATE. 


"  ART  thou  a  king  ?  "    0,  not  in  vain 

Those  words,  though  meant  in  scorn ; 
For  ne'er  was  captive  monarch's  chain 
With  more  of  grandeur  worn. 

"  Thou  sayest " ;  —  the  assent  was  given, 

With  calmness,  not  with  pride ; 
Nor  he,  though  loved  and  crowned  of  heaven, 
That  earthly  power  defied. 

"  My  kingdom  is  not  of  this  earth, 
Else  had  my  servants  fought ; 
But  consecrated  from  my  birth, 
For  truth  I  've  lived  and  taught ; 

"  And  hearts  to  whom  the  truth  is  dear 

Are  subjects  of  my  throne. 
My  law  they  love,  my  voice  they  hear, 
My  gentle  kingdom  own." 

"  What,  then,  is  truth  ?  "  the  Koman  cried, 
Yet  careless  turned  away, 


JESUS    BEFORE    PILATE.  183 

Self-fated,  darkling  to  abide, 
So  near  the  perfect  day. 

0  King  of  truth !  we  bless  thy  sway, 

Thy  law  would  learn  and  love. 
On  earth  conduct  us  in  thy  way, 

And  own  us  thine  above ! 


THE  CROWN  OF  THORNS. 


A  CROWN  for  the  destined  King ! 
The  weight  of  gold  by  David  borne, 

From  conquered  Ammon  torn  !  * 
To  David's  heir  the  regal  circle  bring, 

And  let  the  ruby's  rays 

Join  with  the  sapphire's  blaze 
To  make  for  Judah's  Lord  an  offering. 

A  crown  for  the  gentle  Friend, 
Whose  heart  with  human  love  o'erflows, 

Who  feels  for  human  woes  ! 
The  rose  and  myrtle  with  the  olive  blend, 

And  let  the  mingled  wreath 

Each  softest  odor  breathe, 
And  music's  liquid  melody  attend. 

A  crown  for  the  Lofty  One  ! 
For  him  who  reigns  in  heavenly  might, 
Next  to  the  Infinite ! 

*  "And  he  took  their  king's  crown  from  off  his  head,  (the  weight 
whereof  was  a  talent  of  gold,  with  the  precious  stones,)  and  it  was  set 
on  David's  head."  2  Sam.  xii.  30. 


K- 

THE    CROWN    OF   THORNS.  185 

But  what  were  worthy  of  God's  holy  Son, 

Unless  night's  diadem, 

With  every  starry  gem, 
By  angel  hands  were  laid  before  his  throne  ? 

A  crown  of  the  piercing  thorn 
"Was  woven  for  that  sacred  brow, 

And  lo !  the  soldiers  bow, 
And  hail  the  meek  Redeemer  king,  in  scorn ! 

Christian !  there  fix  thy  gaze  ! 

Nor  gems  nor  starry  rays 
Equal  the  glories  which  that  crown  adorn. 


16* 


"MY  GOD!    MY  GOD!    WHY  HAST  THOU 
FORSAKEN  ME?" 


HAST  thou  forsaken  me  ? 
Father  and  God  !  to  thee 

Humbly  I  cry. 

Free  from  temptation's  thrall, 
Loving  and  blessing  all, 

Yet  here  I  die. 

Hast  thou  not  said  of  old, 
Thou  wouldst  my  throne  uphold 

Against  all  fear  ? 
Hast  thou  not  made,  through  me, 
Blind  eyes  the  light  to  see, 

Deaf  ears  to  hear  ? 

Has  not  my  fervent  prayer 
Risen  through  midnight's  air 

On  the  lone  hill, 
While,  like  the  stars  above, 
Thine  answering  thoughts  of  love 

Burned  calm  and  still  ? 


WHY  HAST   THOU   FORSAKEN   ME  ?  187 

Darkness  around  me  lies  ! 
Scarce  can  my  spirit  rise 

O'er  the  sharp  pain. 
Thoughts  of  a  world  redeemed, 
How  brightly  once  ye  beamed*! 

Beam  yet  again ! 

God  !  thou  hast  given  me  power 
To  brave  this  fearful  hour ; 

Leave  me  not  now ! 
Torn  limbs  and  burning  thirst ! 
Malice  has  done  its  worst ! 

Be  near  me  thou ! 


THE  MOUKNEES. 


THE  nails  are  loosened  from  the  cross, 

And  now  the  sacred  form, 
With  bending  head,  like  flower  that  bows 

Before  the  northern  storm, 
Received  by  friendly  arms,  is  laid 

On  yonder  grassy  mound, 
While  silently,  in  reverent  grief, 

The  mourners  gather  round. 

And  Roman  proud  and  Pharisee 

At  distance  gaze  with  awe, 
For  sternest  breasts  confess  at  times 

Our  nature's  holy  law. 
They  thought  despair  and  baffled  guilt 

Above  that  form  would  rave, 
And  stem-browed  partisans  would  bear 

Their  leader  to  his  grave. 

But  lo !  a  woe-struck  woman  kneels 

To  kiss  that  cheek  of  clay ; 
No  tear  her  agony  reveals, — 

It  may  not  so  find  way. 


THE    MOURNERS.  189 

0  Mary !  mother  of  the  Lord  ! 

Are  these  cold  limbs  the  same 
With  the  bright  infant's  form,  that  erst 

By  thee  to  being  came  ? 

Approach,  O  maid  of  Magdala, 

Once  rescued  by  his  grace, 
And  thou  who  at  his  sacred  feet 

Hast  held  a  happy  place ; 
And  thou,  the  true  disciple,  come  ! 

Where  pierced  that  Eoman  spear 
The  heart  is  still,  that  beat  for  all, 

And  thee,  of  all  most  dear. 

Thou,  who  by  night  hast  trembling  sought 

To  hear  his  hallowed  word, 
Fear'st  not,  new-born,  in  this  sad  hour, 

To  own  him  for  thy  Lord. 
And  Joseph  with  thee  ministers, 

To  whom  dark  Pilate  gave,  — 
While  conscience  blanched  his  war-stained  cheek, — 

The  body  for  the  grave. 

Weep  !  weep  !  yet  upward  let  the  gaze 

Of  faith  reviving  turn ; 
The  heavens  that  darkened  o'er  his  cross 

With  sunset's  glory  burn  ! 
Trust,  mourners,  trust !     Still  reigns  on  high 

The  God  who  loves  the  just ; 
He  can  bid  life  and  glory  bloom 

From  hopes  now  laid  in  dust. 


MARY  AND  JOHN,  BEFORE  THE 
RESURRECTION. 


Mr  mother  !  in  the  awful  hour 

When  darkness  o'er  us  lay, 
While,  fainting  by  the  Blest  One's  cross, 

My  arm  became  thy  stay, 
Did  not  his  gentle  voice  then  seal 

The  bond  for  thee  and  me, 
And  give  me  for  the  coming  time 

To  be  a  son  to  thee? 

O  privilege  of  all  most  high  1 

O  boon  of  all  most  dear ! 
Still,  still,  in  sweet,  sad  memory 

That  voice  I  seem  to  hear. 
Then  come,  my  mother  !  share  the  cot 

Thy  Jesus  oft  hath  blest, 
Far  hence,  where  blue  Gennesareth 
Expands  his  peaceful  breast. 

The  boat  lies  idle  on  the  strand, 
The  net  hangs  by  the  wall ; 


MARY  AND  JOHN.  191 


In  happier  hour,  when  hope  was  high, 

Tor  him  I  left  them  all. 
Now,  for  his  sake  and  thine,  I  turn 

Back  to  that  quiet  sea. 
Farewell,  ye  proud  and  guilty  towers  ! 

My  mother !  come  with  me ! 

There  oft,  when  eve's  advancing  shades 

O'er  hill  and  lake  are  thrown, 
Will  we  recall  the  varied  past, 

And  weep  for  hopes  now  gone. 
Then  will  we  waken  slumbering  faith, 

And  lift  our  brightening  eyes 
To  Him,  who  e'en  from  this  deep  gloom 

Can  bid  the  light  arise. 

Yes,  we  will  trust !    My  thought  retains 

Words  of  mysterious  power 
The  Loved  One  spoke,  as  o'er  his  soul 

Darkened  the  destined  hour. 
That  he  should  rise  again !     O  joy  ! 

But  ah  !  for  hope  too  dear ! 
Some  mystic  meaning  sure  was  there, 

That  time  shall  render  clear. 

Perchance  another,  in  his  might, 

With  burning  words  shall  come, 
And  lead  repentant  Israel  forth 

To  mourn  above  his  tomb. 
Perchance  his  rising  will  be  there 

Where  we  with  him  shall  rise, 
To  meet  the  Father's  smile  of  love, 

In  yonder  holy  skies  ! 


192  MEDITATIONS    IN    VERSE. 

But  now,  the  night  in  watching  spent, 

How  glorious  breaks  the  day ! 
The  sisters  hasten  to  the  tomb, 

The  last  sad  rites  to  pay ; 
And  lo  !  our  brethren's  scattered  band 

Are  gathering  mournfully,  — 
All  here,  except  that  sacred  form 

We  never  more  may  see ! 


ZEAL  AND  LOVE. 


ON,  on,  Crusaders,  once  again, 

To  Salem's  trembling  towers ! 
The  Moslem  ranks  resist  in  vain 

Your  consecrated  powers. 
Spare  not  the  unbelieving  horde ; 

On,  for  the  cause  divine  ! 
And  soon  the  banner  of  the  Lord 

On  Zion's  height  shall  shine  ! 
Cease  your  wild  shouts !     Once  on  this  hallowed  air 
Rose  from  the  cross  the  dying  Saviour's  prayer, 
"  Father,  forgive  !  " 

On  patriots,  in  your  country's  might ! 

Her  injured  honor  calls ! 
Before  her  vindicated  right 

The  insulting  foeman  falls. 
Taste  the  stern  joy  of  battle's  hour, 

And  let  your  standard  wave 
Above  your  country's  conquering  power, 

Or  shroud  her  slaughtered  brave ! 
But  ah !  do  deeds  of  blood  his  impress  bear 
Who  uttered  once,  for  Judah's  race,  the  prayer, 
"  Father,  forgive  "  ? 
17 


194  MEDITATIONS    IN   VERSE. 

The  Church !    By  open  foes  beset 

And  treachery's  hidden  wile, 
She  bids  her  children  trample  yet 

On  error's  serpent  guile. 
The  anathema  has  slept  too  long ; 

Now  let  its  thunders  burst 
On  those  who  lead  the  unwary  throng 

To  heresy  accurst ! 

Yet  pause ;  no  sound  on  Calvary's  mournful  air 
Rose  to  the  throne  of  God,  save  that  meek  prayer, 
"  Father,  forgive  ! " 

Forward,  ye  champions  of  the  age ! 

Plead  for  God's  holy  truth, 
With  all  the  strength  of  manhood  sage, 

The  energy  of  youth ! 
To  that  abyss  whence  first  they  came 

Drive  back  the  brood  of  night ! 
"With  heart  of  steel,  with  tongue  of  flame, 

Do  battle  for  the  right ! 
Yet,  ere  ye  strive,  list  to  your  Master's  prayer, 
Breathed  on  the  cross  for  those  who  placed  him  there, 
"Father,  forgive!" 


THE  PENITENT  THIEF. 


CAN  late  repentance  then  repair 
The  ruin  of  a  life  of  crime  ?  — 

Eternal  justice  grant  the  prayer 
Breathed  at  the  awful  goal  of  time  ? 

Can  habit's  chains  at  once  be  burst,  — 
The  guilt-stained  soul  at  once  be  pure, — 

Sin  from  her  old  dominion  thrust, 
And  peace  and  pardon  rendered  sure  ? 

0  miracle  of  sovereign  grace ! 

Yet  who  that  grace  shall  dare  reprove,  — 
Question,  0  God,  thy  righteous  ways, 

Thy  boundless  power,  thy  saving  love  ? 

And  humble  faith  has  strength  untold ; 

And  penitence,  transforming  might, 
To  turn  sin's  dross  to  heaven's  pure  gold, 

And  the  soul's  darkness  into  light. 

That  faith,  in  suffering  and  in  scorn, 
The  guiltless  Son  of  God  could  own, 


196  MEDITATIONS    IN    VERSE. 

And  reverence,  of  repentance  born, 
Viewed  in  the  cross  Messiah's  throne. 

The  Saviour  blest  that  dying  prayer, 
And  hope  may  rise,  though  near  the  tomb. 

One  pardon  found,  lest  man  despair ; 
One  only,  lest  he  should  presume ! 


PRAYING  IN  THE  NAME  OF  CHRIST. 

"  Whatsoever  ye  shall  ask  the  Father  in  my  name,  he  will  give  it 
you." — John  xvi.  23. 

BY  the  Saviour's  prayer  to  thee 
Poured  upon  the  fatal  tree, 

Lord !  thy  help  we  crave  ! 
Save  from  passion's  tyrant  force,  — 
From  the  stings  of  dire  remorse  ! 

God  and  Father,  save ! 

Save  from  evil  habit's  power ! 

God !  be  thou  our  strength  and  tower, 

Thou  our  sun  and  shield ! 
May  our  souls  to  thee  aspire, 
And  their  unseen  foes  retire 

From  the  conquered  field  ! 

Save  us  in  the  evil  days 

When  our  earthly  strength  decays, 

And  the  couch  is  spread ; 
Anxious  friends,  with  footstep  light, 
Watching  through  the  mournful  night 

Round  our  dying  bed. 
17* 


198  MEDITATIONS    IN    VERSE. 

Thou  who  wast  to  Jesus  nigh, 
God  and  Father !  hear  our  cry  ! 

In  his  name  't  is  poured. 
He  hath  led  us  to  thy  throne; 
Hear  us  through  thy  blessed  Son, 

Our  ascended  Lord ! 


INVITATION. 


COMB  to  the  sacred  feast ! 
Come  for  the  Saviour's  sake ! 
With  reverent  joy  let  every  guest 
The  hallowed  rite  partake. 

Think  not 't  is  earthly  bread ; 
Think  not 't  is  common  wine. 
Of  the  torn  frame,  the  blood  once  shed, 
Behold  the  mystic  sign ! 

Here  let  the  young  draw  nigh, 
And  give  life's  golden  hours 
To  Him  who  bids  eternity 
Expand  its  roseate  bowers. 

And  here  let  man's  firm  tread 
And  woman's  step  of  grace 
Approach  the  feast  of  Jesus,  spread 
Within  the  sacred  place. 

Here  let  the  aged  come, 
Who  long  has  served  his  God ; 


-K 

200  MEDITATIONS    IN    VERSE. 

Who,  calmly  hopeful,  toward  the  tomb 
Treads  as  his  Saviour  trod. 

Blest  Jesus !  be  thou  near ! 
Thy  spirit  o'er  us  reign  ! 
The  perfect  love  that  casts  out  fear 
In  every  soul  remain ! 

Father  and  God  !  we  own 
Thy  presence  round  us  now. 
May  lives  of  holiness  make  known 
That  thou  hast  blest  our  vow ! 


THE  COMMUNION  OF  SAINTS. 


WE  gather  to  the  sacred  board, 

Perchance  a  scanty  band  j 
But  with  us  in  sublime  accord 

What  mighty  armies  stand ! 

In  creed  and  rite  howe'er  apart, 

One  Saviour  still  we  own, 
And  pour  the  worship  of  the  heart 

Before  one  Father's  throne. 

A  thousand  spires  o'er  hill  and  vale 
Point  to  the  same  blue  heaven; 

A  thousand  voices  tell  the  tale 
Of  grace  through  Jesus  given. 

High  choirs,  in  Europe's  ancient  fanes, 
Praise  him,  for  man  who  died ; 

And  o'er  our  boundless  Western  plains 
His  name  is  glorified. 

Around  his  tomb,  on  Salem's  height, 
Greek  and  Armenian  bend ; 


202  MEDITATIONS    IN    VERSE. 

And  through  far  Laplands'  months  of  night 
The  peasant's  hymns  ascend. 

Are  we  not  brethren  ?    Saviour  dear ! 

Then  may  we  walk  in  love, 
Joint  subjects  of  thy  kingdom  here, 

Joint  heirs  of  bliss  above ! 


PBAISE. 


AUTHOR  of  every  good, 
Giving  thy  creatures  food, 
Thou  bidd'st  the  ocean's  flood 

To  rise  and  fall ! 
'T  is  thy  all-ruling  might 
Marshals  the  host  of  night ; 
Thy  goodness  infinite 

Beams  over  all. 

Day  speaketh  unto  day, 
From  morning's  earliest  ray 
Till  evening  fades  away, 

O  God  !  of  thee. 
And  when  the  night  has  spread 
Her  mantle  overhead, 
Then  through  the  darkness  dread 

Thine  eye  can  see  ! 

i 

Wherever  man  is  found, 
Thy  love  that  knows  no  bound 
Still  doth  his  path  surround, 

Father  divine ! 


n ; 

204  MEDITATIONS    IN    VERSE. 

Thou  giv'st  the  bright  spring  hours, 
Thou,  summer's  leafy  bowers ; 
Fruits  which  the  autumn  showers, 
All,  all  are  thine  ! 

But  of  thy  varied  store 
None  wins  our  praises  more 
Than  the  immortal  lore 

Jesus  hath  given. 
All  the  bright  gifts  of  earth 
Cannot  approach  the  worth 
Of  the  celestial  birth, 

Heirship  of  heaven ! 

Thou  from  whom  Jesus  came ! 
Keep  us  from  sin  and  shame  ! 
Kindle  a  holy  flame 

Within  each  breast ! 
Beneath  thy  loving  eyes 
Still  may  our  souls  arise, 
Till  in  thy  own  pure  skies 

With  thee  they  rest ! 


THE   END. 


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